


Freeing the Witch

by LassLuna



Series: Another Time and Place [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arendelle, Dark Emma Swan, Deckhand Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Episode: s04e22-s04e23 Operation Mongoose, Everything is upside down, Evil Elsa, F/M, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LassLuna/pseuds/LassLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Upon a Time, there was Emma Swan the Savior and Killian Jones the fearsome pirate Captain Hook. But this is not that time, this is not that place, this is the time of the Dark Swan and a cowardly Deckhand who dares to think he could save her and live to tell the tale…Especially when things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dark Swan

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same universe of 4x22/23, so there may be minor spoilers up to that point.  
> This is also a repost from Fanfiction.net,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/20: Beta read by notoriouscs

You never forget the first time you meet The Dark Swan.

Some called her the Dark One, or the Dark Princess, but Killian always preferred the Dark Swan.

There was something delicate about the name, delicate and deadly.

According to his brother, she was younger than Killian, coming into such a roll just hours after her birth. Even as a child, he had heard that no one would survive her wrath. No one survived to tell about seeing her.

When Killian sees her for the first time, she is nothing like he expected. There are no fangs or scales or blood at her feet. She wears a ratty blue dress with eyes puffy from crying. Her wrists are chained to the ground behind her as she curls around herself in a defeated heap. 

He may have thought her dead save for the simple fact that he can see her chest rise and fall slowly in every breath. Such a simple fact surprises him. He had been told that she was not human, not mortal, so just the fact that she breathes astounds him.

He is hesitant in his first steps toward the maiden, hearing the echoes of the rumors swirling in his head. Even though all he sees right now is a battered and broken woman, he still remembers the warnings he received from his fellow sailors. He still fears her, even hurt and defeated. 

_ The monster _ .  _ The devil’s spawn _ . 

He heard she once ripped off a man’s head for whistling disrespectfully at her. 

_ Never go near the tower. Her screams will drive you mad. If you get close, she’ll rip out your heart and keep it for a while, keep you at her mercy until you are no longer you. Then she’ll kill you. _

Killian has never been one for risk, never one for adventure. That was always  _ his _ job _. His _ role. Now that he is…gone, Killian is just a deckhand. He shouldn’t even be here. He should be swabbing the deck, coiling neglected ropes, anything but standing  _ here _ . With  _ her _ .

Her eyes flash open suddenly. He nearly jumps back in panic. Her wild eyes never quite meet his. She stands up, pulling on the restraints with a mighty cry. It’s loud and angry. . Her cry is a familiar one, a sound known by all sailors who dare to sail too close to her tower. The shackles clang against each other as she isn’t quite strong enough to free herself

_ Her screams will drive you mad. _

His judgement says to turn around and go back from whence he came, to go back and pretend none of this ever happened. Perhaps those who locked her in here will just let him be if he doesn’t free her. Perhaps he will be safe. Perhaps he’ll keep his heart and mind in one piece. It is rumored after all, that the Queen will tear out the heart of any who oppose her, of any who even think about freeing the beast.

He could sail back to his port, apologize profusely to the Captain, and plead for mercy. He is still sore from the last time he was disobedient, but he knows this time will be far worse. The Captain won’t settle for just smacking him around the deck or delivering superficial wounds. If he doesn’t return with his ship, Killian will be put to death for sure.

But the sight of her pulling and pulling against the chains, yelling curses and wordless pleas…it’s sad and desperate. He feels a pang in his heart, a pang that keeps him rooted to his spot. Because even with the warnings, with the horror stories spinning in his head, the very threat of a painful death, Killian only sees a woman trapped against her will, trapped and in pain. He can’t leave her. Long ago, he let down one just like her.  He was too afraid to do anything. Perhaps this time he can help her.

But she is a monster, she isn’t…she is a killer, a murderer. It isn’t the same thing. The Dark Swan isn’t Milah.

He takes a step toward her, hesitant, wondering what he had done to get into such a mess. What had he done that keeps him from turning his back on the Dark Swan? He should be running away in terror. Any sane man would be quaking in his boots, fleeing. He himself trembled when the Captain gave him an order, so why is he not afraid now? He doesn’t know.

“Hello?” he says, drawing her attention to him. Her blonde hair is matted and wild like the mane of a lion. She looks up from beneath it, a miserable glare in her eyes.

“Who are you?” she practically growls. “A new guard perhaps? Come to see the mythical Dark Swan Princess of the realm?” He flinches back at the cruel tone of her voice. 

_ She is definitely no Milah. _

Milah, the wife of the town hero, was always kind to a bumbling fool like him. She would laugh at his attempts at humor, kiss his cheek, and make him promise to stop enraging the Captain so much. She was never cruel.

Yet here he is, freeing The Dark Swan, something he could never do for her.

“N-no. I’m…” He looks down, trying to collect his words, but he can’t. He’s too mesmerized by the green in her eyes. He’d assumed from the stories that they’d be red, or dark, not a peaceful green color. 

“Spit it out,” she snaps as she stalks toward him, making him flinch in fright.  She’s smiling now, a vindictive smile. She looks pleased with her actions, pleased to have caused him fear. She tries to take another step toward him, but the chains rattle, and he knows she’s at the end of her rope. She tries to pull against them stubbornly, but can’t.  He can hear her cursing under her breath at them, then at him, then at her parents, then at the world.

Kilian swallows and bites his tongue, gaining an ounce of bravery and planning to put it to good use. He thinks what  _ he  _ would do, sliding on the persona like an unfamiliar glove.

“I’ve come to save you. I have the key to those chains of yours, but if you don’t want it, I’ll gladly give it back to the lass residing over your tower“ he says quickly, half turning to leave. A part of him hopes she’ll just let him go. 

Her form goes rigid at his words, the chains slackening ever so slightly. “What?” she exclaims, shocked. He grins, quite liking the flash of softness on her face. It suits her better than the scowl she had previously.  Such a beautiful face shouldn’t have such an ugly expression.

“Why?” she asks skeptically as he approaches her slowly, both hands open in a soothing gesture, the key ring held against his palm by his thumb. He wishes to let her know that he means her no harm. He simply wants to help. 

Her skin is soft and cold. He can feel her uncertainty as he places the key in the lock and turns it effortlessly. His thoughts begin to wander to how long she’s been here, trapped, alone, afraid that she’d be all alone for the rest of her life, afraid that he’d be swabbing ships for the rest of his.

“No one deserves to be trapped in a life they don’t wish to live,” he says before he has a chance to think about his words. The shackles fall away, making her hiss as the raw skin beneath contacts the cool, salty air. It makes him jump back, worried that she will strike out against him. Judging by the look in her eyes, he half expects her to leap and rip out his throat.

But she doesn’t. She looks at him gratefully for a moment, but stops.

“What do you know about being trapped?” she spits under her breath, stepping away from him. Her pale hands rub against her wrists. He tries to keep his hurt at her sharp reply in check. Killian assumes gratitude is in order, not hostility. 

He moves toward her instinctively, much to his surprise. His mind is screaming to run and not look back, to continue his efforts to survive. Being around her is a risk to his life. He has to stay alive.

But at the same time, it’s important to him that she know his words aren’t empty. They aren’t spoken blindly and stupidly. It’s important for her to know that someone really does understand the feeling of being trapped. 

“I know more than you imagine,” he snaps back, harsher than he means to, harsher than he should dare. “I know that being trapped, physically or not, leaves the soul vulnerable, leaves it open to hope for something better. But then whatever is trapping you reappears, pulls you back, rubs you raw, and then all you have is bitterness.” 

She is going to kill him for his bluntness. He can see it now, her beautiful complexion morphing into that of a fiend before she cuts his throat and laughs as he bleeds out.

Her eyes soften briefly before she turns away from him, caught off guard by his words. “Bitterness and anger,” he adds, because if he is going to die for his words, at least have them be complete.

He didn’t intend to bare his innermost thoughts to the princess trapped in her tower. He intended to free her and be on his way, not contemplate the woes of the trapped while risking his life and sanity.

Yet at the same time, he likes the look she gives him when he speaks his mind, hesitant with a touch of disbelief, eyes like piercing flames. He looks away after a moment feeling like if he watches her for too long he will surely be burned.

“Let’s get out of here,” she snaps, leading the way even as her feet stumble slightly. He feels like offering her a hand, but guesses that if he acts like she needs more help than he’s already given, she’ll turn on him.

“As you wish,” he says instead.


	2. The Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/20/17: Betad by notoriouscs

 

It is the first time anyone has ever  _ saved _ the Dark Swan.

It is the first time anyone ever even  _ wanted _ to save her.

Her past allies, well, you could say their  _ hearts _ weren’t really in it, No, the only one who ever saved the Dark Swan was her. She can’t rely on anyone else, can’t trust them,  can’t trust anyone.

Most of the realm thinks it’s the only sane thing Queen Snow ever did. Lock her child in tower on a faraway island and throw away the key. Lock up the beast so she can never harm anyone again. They speak like being a monster is her own fault. They just don’t know. They don’t understand that monsters aren’t born. They’re made. They didn’t see how she had been created, carved by darkness like some sort of living sculpture.

She knows that fearsome rumors about her tower hang in the air, forbidding even the bravest of warriors from attempting a rescue.

“Why did you come?” she asks as she walks in front of a man clad in dark, faded clothes that hang from his form rather poorly. “You don’t look like much of an adventurer,” she adds, with an amused chuckle. His head bows shyly as he struggles to find the words. Clearly she’s judged correctly. She doesn’t meet his eyes as her comment hangs in the air.

He had obviously been privy to the rumors surrounding her existence. When he found her, he had been terrified by her every movement, something she plans to exploit fully. 

“Let’s just say fate has a way of putting us on paths we didn’t intend to take,” he mumbles sheepishly. When she looks back, he’s ducking his head. 

She chuckles at that. She kind of likes how easy it is to get to him, his expression flipping from frightened, to flustered, to the occasional daring glance. It’s very…interesting.

She hasn’t had interesting in a long time.

“And what do you venture toward? What has you trapped?” she asks. “No one can say things like  _ that _ unless they truly  _ know _ . His descent down the stairs halts suddenly. His mouth opens to reply, but he bites it back. His hand claws at his left wrist, but then he freezes, mouth closed. If he is breathing, she can’t tell.

There’s something troubling about this man being still. She just met him, but he seems like the type to remain in constant motion, moving or fidgeting no matter the situation, refusing to be physically caged despite whatever it is that has given him such insight into the feeling of being trapped

But now he is still, eyes staring at nothing.

She wonders what he is seeing. 

Eventually, it must be the inside of a stone stairwell again, because he comes back to himself.

“We’ve known each other for about five minutes, lass. I don’t believe that warrants the baring of our souls, do you?” he says dryly.  

if anyone else spoke to her like that, she wouldn’t hesitate to rip out his heart and squeeze it so slowly that his screams could be heard for miles. But she lets this man slide for it. He freed her, and it wouldn’t be good manners to kill her rescuer. Not yet, anyway.

She rolls her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “Fine.” He’s  _ certainly _ interesting. She can’t remember the last time a person interested her, not since…

They reach the bottom of the tower in tense silence. He opens the door and holds it for her.

“Such the gentleman,” she says with an annoyed expression. It makes his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“I’m always a gentleman love.” He says, before he comes back to himself and averts his eyes in obvious embarrassment. “Sorry, I-” He stops mid-sentence as his eyes dart to something over her shoulder. She spins on her heels, hands at the ready.

_ She knew it was too easy. _

“Get back in your tower,  _ princess _ ,” a voice sneers. At a loud gasp, she whirls back around to see the man being dragged from the door, twisting and squirming. He’s held with an arm painfully twisted behind his back and a curved blade to his throat.  

The instant he feels the cold blade, his eyes widen. He stops squirming. There’s that unnatural stillness again. 

“Or your new  _ friend _ will die here.” The attacker uses the word “friend” sarcastically. It’s not like Princess Emma has any real friends. No, she’s never had a real friend.

Emma bristles, a mixture of desire to do what she does best and run from this place warring with the even stronger desire to stand her ground and show the guard what happens when you threaten her.  In fact, Emma wants to  _ skin _ the guard and leave her for the Queen to see. She wants to leave a message not soon forgotten.

She wants Snow White to know that the Dark Swan cannot be contained. Contrary to her mother’s belief, she was born to be free.

“No. But I’ll tell you what,  _ dog _ . Release  _ my _ pirate, and perhaps I won’t skin you for trying to keep me on a leash,” she hisses, knowing it’s a lie. 

She’ll probably skin her anyway.

Emma feels her magic seeping back into her, but painfully slowly. She’s worried that not enough time has elapsed since her imprisonment, and her magic might fail her. But she can’t let worries cloud her. She needs to put up a brave front and let her powers go.

Fear and doubt never mix well with dark magic.

_ Well, here goes nothing! _

Emma snaps her fingers, magic heightening the sound as magic bounces off the walls in a supersonic attack that makes the brunette guard howl in pain at her sensitive ears.

_ Stupid dog. _

The guard’s grip loosens ever so slightly, allowing the man to twist out of her hold and grab her dagger as a souvenir. 

Emma expects him to use the blade, to slash at their enemy, to cut her, to hurt her, to help them escape. Any rational warrior, or knight, or hunter, or hell, even pirate, would do that. 

But he doesn’t.  He grips the weapon as if it is still held against him rather than under his control. He looks more nervous than when  _ he _ was the hostage. His gaze flickers between the blade and the brunette, and then back to Emma. It’s obvious that he has little to no combat training. In fact, she believes he’s terrified of the weapon itself.

_ Then how did he even get the key? Why did he even come here? _

The guard is on her feet again, eyes glowing yellow in the darkness. She howls loudly as she springs for the closest target, the man, claws extended. Emma reacts in an instant, sweeping the man out of harm’s way with a flick of her wrist, letting her magic blow him off his feet and way out of the wolf’s striking range.

He hits the ground in a crumpled heap, cursing slightly as he holds the side that hit the ground. His rise back up is slow and fearful. It’s possible he’s even trembling. 

She stands by her earlier assessment that he is  _ not _ an adventurer. He isn’t even a fighter.

But that’s fine. He freed her, so she will take care of this dog without using him as a chew toy.  But make no mistake, it isn’t out of sense of duty, or repaying the debt to the man.  

The Dark Swan just didn’t like losing potential new sources of entertainment. He is just too…interesting… to die so soon. The Dark Swan doesn’t like when people break her things. The Queen has broken enough of them already. This man is hers to play with until she gets bored.

“Stay behind me and out of my way,” she hisses at the man, dodging the wolf’s attempt to slash her throat. She finds a rod and waves it like a sword at her enemy. She would much prefer a sword.

“You’ll never get away from here, Princess,” the guard sneers  “Don’t you remember?  _ They’ll always find you! _ ”

Emma shudders. Those words always bring her a sense of dread, of hopelessness. She is still trapped, not by shackles and chains, but by hate and cruelty.

_ And blood. She can never escape the blood that runs through her veins. _

_ Will it ever end? _ She doubts it.

Suddenly her wrist feels like it’s on fire as her arm is ripped open by the wolf’s fierce claws. The rod clatters to the floor loudly. Yup, Emma really wants a sword. But such a weapon is not available at the moment, forcing her to call upon her magic once more. 

Her hands glow briefly with darkness, then it dies out. She is too tired, too weak, for her magic to burn as brightly as usual.

_ “Magic is about emotion, Emma. What are you protecting?” _

She had laughed at that, her first magic lesson. Too bad that lesson had been about light magic rather than the type she had humming through her.

“ _ Magic is about emotion, Emma. Whom do you wish to destroy?” _

Much better. But regardless of her emotional state, she can’t make her magic react.

She curses under her breath. She’s on her own. 

The guard, in full wolf mode now, tackles her to the ground, a paw on her throat, claws griping at her skin. Emma weakly attempts to push her off, but the wolf is too strong, and Emma is weak after spending so long in chains.

The Dark Swan stares into yellow eyes, silently daring the wolf to restrain her, to kill her. She would rather go down fighting than return to that tower. 

She won’t go back there. She won’t!

The endless hours in silence, thinking and thinking about all the things she’s done wrong. The occasional visits from her mother, interrogating her about the location of the dagger. The questions upon questions racking her brain, wondering where he is, what he is doing.

Does he miss her? Does anyone miss her? 

“Shut it, you fleabag!” shouts an accented voice, and the hilt of the dagger comes down on the back of the wolf’s head, dropping her, unconscious, on top of Emma.

Emma blinks. It takes her a moment to process what just happened. He saved her, not once, but twice!  

The man stands over her and the collapsed wolf. He seems surprised by his own actions, practically throwing down the knife and clutching his cut hand. Emma can see the blood dripping from his skin.

The idiot had held the dagger by the blade and hit the wolf with the handle. 

“Bloody hell!” he curses loudly, before looking at her embarrassedly, as if he regrets saying such foul words in front of her. He really is laying on the ‘gentleman’ stuff rather thickly. She suppresses a chuckle and an eye roll.

“What did I…Is she…” he stutters, eyes returning to the unconscious wolf-girl. He looks horrified by the possibility that killed her.

Emma shakes her head in disappointment, pushing the wolf off of her and getting to her feet. “Just out cold.” Her mind fills with thoughts of how to put the beast out of her misery. Remove her heart? Slit her throat? She does need a new fur coat after all.

“Please don’t,” his voice cuts in. “She doesn’t need to die.”

Emma glances his way, crossing her arms. “And why is that? I’ve killed for less than locking me in a tower, threatening me – “ she seethes at first, but then stops as she notices his state.

He looks unwell. His eyes are distant, body shaking. For the first time in a very long time, something seems more important than her vengeance. 

“ _ Please,” _ he practically begs. It was probably his first time holding a weapon. She’s sure this was the first time he’s ever used one on someone.  _ Cute really _ . But he seems haunted now, distraught over the fact that he injured someone, even if it was to save her life. 

She doesn’t know why, but she finds herself nodding, pocketing the weapon and placing a hand on his shoulder. It makes him flinch.

“Shh. Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have let her slit your throat,” she reminds him. Her words don’t seem to comfort him. She isn’t exactly used to calming someone’s fears. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t freak out on me,” she tries again. “Let’s get out of here, hmm?”

He relaxes a bit, allowing her to lead him from the tower to his ship. It’s the only ship, so it must be his.

She stops briefly, breathing in fresh air for the first time in a long while. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking it all in.

She’s always liked how freedom feels.


	3. The Plight of a Sailor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/20/17 Beta read by notoriouscs

Chapter 3 

The Plight of a Sailor

This  is a suicide mission. He knew that before he’d agreed to take her out of port. Sailing her alone was hard enough. Had he been any other member of her crew, it couldn’t be done. But this was the Jewel. He knew every nook and cranny, every little quirk, every dent. He lived his entire life on this ship, under vastly different captains for sure, but she is his home.

_ Why did he agree to this?  _

The Captain is going to banish him, fire him. He will never again set foot on the Jewel, that is if he survives. The Captain once cut off the hands off a pirate who flirted with his woman. He made Killian quake in terror, and that was before he met her, the Dark Swan, before he hurt the guard, before he had made himself an enemy of the crown. 

Killian doesn’t know what he’s feeling, other than sick. His head throbs, and he wants to curl up and scream. Sure, he had saved her. , he doesn’t regret his actions, but still, he had hurt someone.

He’s back on the Jewel at least. Maybe the familiar environment will provide some sort of comfort, even if it wasn’t home to the most pleasant of memories lately.

He bandages his right hand clumsily with his left. The slash from where he held the dagger was long and deep along his palm, dripping blood on the Captain’s table. While he is used to bandaging his own wounds, it isn’t often that he has to do it one-handed. 

_ He’s not going to be happy when I get back _ , Killian shivered.  _ And not just about the blood. _

“Hey pirate, have any good rum in this boat?” asked the woman prancing in, interrupting his thoughts. He picks up his head to look at her, jaw dropping slightly.

Instead of the ratty blue dress she had been wearing, she’d stolen a pale yellow shirt from one of the cabins. It hangs far too low on her chest for his comfort. Beneath it, she is wearing brown leather pants, and over it, a dark blue leather vest that hugs her body more tightly than he thinks he can handle. Her hair looks tamer, held behind her head by a piece of rope. Her eyes are as wild as ever, just trained on him. She licked her lips slyly, obviously teasing him for staring. He averts his eyes, not wanting to appear rude.

_ Get it together, Jones. _

“I haven’t had a drink in months!” She prances past him, eyeing the Captain’s liquor cabinet greedily.

“I w-wouldn’t touch that!” he exclaims in near panic, reaching forward to stop her. There was nothing the captain hated more than someone touching his liquor. And if she does, he will surely be blamed. 

His complaint falls on deaf ears, as she’s already hunched over, hastily riffling through them bottles. He hears them clink together as she searches. “The Captain doesn’t like it when someone messes with his rum,” he tries once more.

She stands up, a bottle of amber colored rum in one hand, the other hand placed firmly on her hip as she looks at it skeptically. “Cheap stuff…” she mumbles unhappily, before her eyes shoot back to him. Killian shifts uncomfortably. 

There is something about her eyes, those emerald eyes, that makes him feel exposed.

There is something about her that makes him feel like she is about to consume him on the spot.

“I thought you were the captain of this ship?” she questions. He feels his face turn red as he averts his eyes, choosing to focus on his cut hand rather than her, rather than on the fact that he isn’t the captain she expected. He wishes he were though. He wishes the Jewel were sailing under his command and under her proper name. 

“Ah…well…” he mumbles, trying to find the words. Her eyes lock on his, and in one quick movement, she steps closer and yanks his hand toward her face. He yelps in surprise. With a simple pull, she removes the bandages that he spent the last twenty minutes tying. His cut shoots pain up his arm. Killian bites his tongue, trying to keep at least a bit of his pride.

She smirks at his unsuccessful attempt at a brave face. She pours something on his hand. It stings painfully, and he tries to pull his hand back. He can’t. It’s trapped in her grip.

“What the hell is that?” he nearly shouts. It feels like she just set his hand ablaze!

“Rum,” she informs him. “And a waste of it.” She places the bottle  on the desk (after a quick sip, of course), then wraps a new bandage around his hand, much more securely than he had managed. She releases his grip as soon as she finishes, reaching for a second gulp of rum.  She takes a seat in the Captain’s chair, putting her feet up on his desk.

“Now talk. Who are you? How did you know I was up there?”

The unspoken threat spins in her eyes. Not answering is  _ not _ an option. 

“Killian Jones,” he introduces himself proudly, something he should have done earlier.  _ He  _ would have berated him for his bad form in inviting a woman onto the ship without at least telling her his name. But  _ he’ _ s not here.

“Not the captain,” she adds, attempting to hand him the bottle. He refuses quickly out of habit.

It was often a trap, the other sailors trying to get him hammered for entertainment at his expense. Eventually he learned to say he was allergic, though truthfully, he just can’t hold his liquor.

“No. Not the captain,” he agrees darkly. Killian doesn’t like to be reminded of that. “Nor the lieutenant, nor…any reputable position.” She raises a brow but says nothing. 

“As for how I knew you were there, everyone in the realm knows that. It’s not a secret, I’m afraid.” She doesn’t look phased by the admission that her imprisonment was public knowledge, that everyone knew but no one else came to her rescue. “A stranger asked me to free you. I refused, not having a ship of my own, nor the skills required.”  He remembers leading the stranger to his captain’s cabin, hearing whispers, and then the Captain ordering him inside.

“But the offer became something I could not refuse,” Killian explained vaguely. “Not if I value my life.” She chuckles, crossing her arms.

“Someone threatened to kill you if you didn’t come save me? I doubt it,” she huffs. “Try again,” she says ominously, waving a mass of darkness in her palm. No stated threat is needed.

He shrugs, backing away. “Not in so many words,” he corrects quickly. “And nothing so bloodthirsty. He just made it extremely difficult for me to return to my life unless I bring you back.” 

She tenses, gripping the rum bottle,  her magic flickering from her other hand as quickly as she conjured it. “Make no mistake, love, you are not my prisoner, not that I could keep you if I wanted. He just wants to meet you in our port.”

She smiles slyly, rising from her chair. She appears to find something he said amusing. She is stepping toward him, getting dangerously close. “And do you, not-captain Jones? Want me?” she purrs. 

Killian, backed into the wall, turns red, visibly scrambling for a respectful, yet not insinuating reply. His discomfort makes her laugh wildly, her hand brushing against his arm.

“I…er…well…” he steps around her, nearly tripping on his feet. He can’t think of an appropriate response.

“I have to go man the helm. I’ve left it unattended far too long,” he excuses, relieved when she lets him pass.

“Fine Jones, ruin all my fun. I’ll figure you out eventually,” she says. “In the meantime, I think a celebration is in order!” He doesn’t look back to see what that means. He assumes drinking and messing with the Captain’s things. 

That lass is trouble. He just needs to stay strong, resist her until they reach port. Then she’ll be on her way, and hopefully, the Captain won’t decide to kill him. 

That’s all he can hope for.

By the time he reaches the helm and grips the wheel, his tension is already easing. He remembers learning to sail when he was but a lad, running around the deck bothering all the sailors with questions. He had been happy then. He had been so happy.

Killian’s thoughts wander to her, the Dark Swan. Had she been happy once? Had she been free? Legend and lore told of villages she slayed, people she took in the dead of night, manipulating their hearts and souls only to kill them in front of their loved ones.

The stories never spoke of how she walks with confidence, how she commands attention, how she wields a weapon. The tales never captured how angry and hurt she was in the tower, how brilliantly she fought for freedom. 

_ He  _ had once said that a woman worth having was a woman who fought for what she wanted, never interested in those who let men tell them who they were. Killian still remembers the times he would be out courting a woman, his true love according to the man. Killian heard that the love was forbidden, but  _ he  _ never cared.  _ He  _ was a pirate and pirates took what they wanted.

If  _ he  _ had been here,  _ he  _ wouldn’t have backed away from the Dark One’s challenge.

But Killian isn’t  _ him. _

So when the Dark One asked him what he wanted, he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell her, because he didn’t know. He isn’t even brave enough to know in his heart what he wants, let alone to take it.

Killian is a bloody coward.

A noise makes him look up from the spot on the deck he was staring a hole through.

“What the-.“ His words die in his throat as someone reach into his chest.

“Oooh. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”


	4. Ice Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/21/17 beta read by notoriouscs

 

It is night by the time she finishes the bottle. She craved a handful of things while locked in that tower. Rum was one of them. Just because she was immortal and didn’t _need_ food and drink, didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy them.

And rum…rum is always her vice of choice, although she prefers something a little bit pricier than what was available on this ship.  Emma leans back in the Captain’s chair, enjoying the feeling of authority in the position. She already assessed that the man who owned said chair was a tasteless, cheap booze in expensive bottles, gold hidden in every cranny, nothing personal anywhere on the ship. He didn’t seem to value anything that didn’t have materialistic value.

The crewmembers, on the other hand, have a few knickknacks, messages in bottles, journals of their adventures, and the like squirreled away. One member keeps old clothing worn by past dalliances, apparently ones with some style. The Jewel is a ship in her mother’s navy. If she didn’t enjoy messing with the sailor so much, Emma would indulge her rage at the Queen and roast the enchanted wood, damn the consequences.

But she holds back, occupying herself by rifling through the crew’s possessions. She can tell a lot about a person based on their keepsakes and the way they arrange their personal space. Who is a workaholic? Who is a collector? The first mate, as it happens.

Emma is certain her mysterious rescuer has many of keepsakes somewhere on this ship. She searches through every crew member's bunk and is sure she hasn’t found his yet. None of the profiles she creates to go with each set of belongings  fit him.

Either this isn’t his ship, or she hasn’t found his personal space yet. She’s already seen how comfortable he is with the ship, so she knows he’s spent a great deal of time here. There has to be a place marked as his own, a place that will give her somewhere to start making sense of him.

Now bored with the ship’s hold, she ventures onto the deck,  Emma spots her only shipmate right where he said he would be, hands gripping the helm, back hunched over, head nodding in exhaustion. He is tapping his foot rhythmically to keep himself awake. Emma teleports herself over to him, making him jump in alarm.

“Princess…” he stutters groggily. “I didn’t…” She waves him off, grinning.

“No worries, sailor. I just found myself quite bored and figured I’d see what you’re up to,” she says casually, sitting on the railing. She can see the tension her precarious position is causing him.

“You shouldn’t…it’s not…” Emma rolls her eyes at his worrying yet again.

“I’m a big girl, Jones. Now tell me, how long have you been a sailor?”

A goofy smirk appears on his face. “Since I was a boy,” he responds instantly. “My brother taught me once he had his own ship. I was a cabin boy back then, but I could always sail a ship better than any of his men. Liam used to tease them about it.”

Emma can’t help but feel jealous of the sheer joy she sees in his eyes, the first time she’s seen light so innocent and pure. She wonders what it would be like to have a sibling that truly cared about her.

 _Apparently when he’s tired he’s a bit freer with his words,_ Emma notes.

“How long have you had magic?” he asks suddenly, carefully meeting her gaze.

She crosses her legs, leaning over the edge as she looks at the sky, seeing the stars clearly for the first time in a while. She finds her favorite constellations easily.

“I was born with it,” she whispers, remembering the day when she discovered it in herself, when she got so angry she –

“Magic from true love?” he ventures, the same smile, same light in his eyes on his face.

“Hardly. My parents were never in love. Not the true kind anyway. If they are in love, it’s the most disturbed love ever. No, my magic was a curse, a way for my mother to control the realm. She thought that combining the greatest potential for darkness and the Dark One’s curse, would earn her the mother of the year award,” Emma snarks. “And don’t look at me with pity. Joke’s on her. As soon as I hit eighteen, my magic spiked, and I tossed that stupid dagger to another realm. “

The memory of her mother’s face when she did that, when they could no longer control her like a puppet, was priceless.  She wasn’t their precious obedient little girl anymore. She was _free._

Being tethered to the dagger’s string was worse than death. The day she threw it away was the start of the rest of her life. Even while hiding from the Queen’s men, finding the company of strangers rather than family, life had finally been worth living She explored parts of herself she never knew existed. Emma had been happy, happy until –

“Swan?” Kilian asks. “What makes you think I would pity you?” Utter honesty rings in his voice. “You can handle yourself quite well. Whatever you went through, it made you the swan you are today, so no, I don’t pity you.”

She smiles, a real smile. She doesn’t understand why, but she feels at ease around this clumsy sailor, this clumsy mysterious sailor who has yet to lie to her. How rare.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispers, approaching him to cup his cheek in her hand. He tenses but keeps his gaze from fleeing.

“I told you, because I had to,” he says quickly. And there it is. A lie. _Alright, now it starts…_

“Along with my magic, I have this other talent. It’s my super-secret weapon. I know when someone is lying.” She traces his arm with small circles, other hand drifting to his chin, making him meet her gaze. He’s determined to hold his ground.

”You didn’t have to do this. You say you didn’t have any other option, but that’s a lie. A smart man like you could have found another way.  I want to know why you helped me, why you risked your life for someone you hadn’t even met.”

He opens his mouth slightly, pulling away. “My reasons are…selfish,” he utters softly, almost guiltily. “I’d love to say that I was doing the right thing, but that would be another lie. I had a selfish desire, one that seemed quite a bit unrealistic,” he admits.

She rolls her eyes. “If there is anything I understand, it’s being selfish. It’s all I am.” When she wants something, nothing can stop her from getting it – toys, sweets, men, power. Nothing is too out there, nothing sacred from Emma Swan.

“That’s a lie,” he says suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You can lie to me all you want, Swan. We’ve only known each other for a few hours. But you shouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Emma sucks in a ragged breath, pulling back. He’s looking at her now, challenging her to respond because _he knows he’s right._ She doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like feeling so exposed.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hisses. “I’m a villain.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but she stops him. Something feels strangely familiar about the dark, murky water, the land she can barely make out in the distance, the very air they are breathing. It doesn’t have the inherent magic of Camelot. It’s too cold to be Misthaven. That leaves only one nearby option.

“Where are we?” she hisses suddenly, her skin prickling with the intense magic she feels. Emma can’t believe she didn’t notice it sooner. When he doesn’t respond fast enough, she whirls around, gripping his throat in her hand. It doesn’t matter if she likes the sailor. If he is leading her into a trap –

“Arendelle,” he responds in a gasp, hands trying to pry her nails from his skin. “The quickest route to Misthaven.”

She curses under her breath.   _That_ is what she feels. She was right. She has to do something, get out of here, hide her magic, something…

“What’s wrong Swan?” he asks, his attempts at getting out of her grasp more desperate as his oxygen depletes.

She releases him, deciding to spend her energy pacing about the deck instead. She responds without looking at him, “Arendelle has two very bad things: a king who is prejudiced against all magic, and a witch who would like nothing more than to freeze –“

She stops talking when she hears a pained gasp, whirling around to see Killian drop to his knees, clutching his chest and shaking like a leaf.

“Don’t let me stop you. Tell your friend here what I’d like to do to you,” Killian’s voice purrs in a manner that is clearly not his own. Emma spins, looking for the owner of that familiar icy tone.

_She’s here._

Emma finds her perched one of the masts. Emma watches with daggers in her eyes as the ship’s new passenger prances down her just-made ice staircase toward the deck. The statuesque figure has ice blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Her dress is long and flowing, glittering like ice. In her hand is a glowing red heart, perfectly manicured nails piercing it in a way designed to cause pain.

 _She never just controlled a heart,_ Emma recalls. _She would clutch it, draw out the pain until the very last breath._

“You were never good at feeling me coming. Maybe it’s because I always had better self-control than you did,” the woman snickers, stalking around Emma to stand behind Killian. He is still on his knees, gasping for breath but otherwise unable to move.

“Elsa. What do you want?” Emma snaps, calling up her own dark magic. It rises to the surface, making her palms glow black. “Another fight? Because we both know how well the last one ended.”

Emma remembers knocking out the witch with a single well-aimed blast. Now that is a memory she feels like reliving.

Elsa rolls her eyes, clutching the heart and making Killian gasp again. “Don’t even try, Emma. Put a lid on your magic before I turn his heart to dust. Of course, that’s not really my style. It’s more of your mum’s cup of tea…I know! I can freeze it!” she says.

Emma can see blue seeping into the red heart, making the pirate shake even more violently. His skin is turning pale, but he maintains his kneeling position, keeping his eyes on the deck.

He lets out low moans of pain and desperation, sounds that Emma can’t take anymore.

“Stop!” she exclaims her magic vanishing instantly from her hands. “Stop it right now or else,” she growls.

Emma hates the smirk that appears on the Ice Queen’s face, but Elsa eases her grip, allowing some tension to fade from Killian’s body. He hasn’t stopped shivering though, and his heart remains an ominous blue color.

Without a word, Elsa bends down to cup his face in her pale fingers. She makes him look at her. “You’re lucky, whoever you are. Emma likes you. Maybe you’ll be a better hostage than the hunter she fancied a while back.”

Killian pulls away stubbornly, and she drops his face with a pout. “Stand up,” she orders him. He shoots straight up on wobbly legs, obviously surprised by his inability to resist her orders.

“Take us to wherever you pirates gather.” He nods rigidly before stumbling down the deck, downstairs and further into the ship.

“What do you want, Elsa?” Emma grumbles as she is led forward. She hates being used and had half a mind to let the queen crush his heart just to avoid this helpless feeling.

“All will be revealed in due time,” she giggles as they arrive. It looks to be a type of common room of the ship. Elsa points to a spot away from the benches. “Now go stand there, by the door, and let us lasses talk,” she orders Killian, mimicking his accent.

He stares at her from his spot, pleading in his eyes.

“Elsa,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “Talk. Now.”

Elsa rolls her eyes. “Fine. I need your help, and your ship to rescue Ingrid.”

Emma stiffens at the name. “Ingrid _?”_

Elsa nods, her voice turning sad. “Anna and Hans trapped her.” She explains. “I barely got away with my life. I _need_ back up. I was just on my way to rip out some hearts to get myself an army, but thankfully I sensed you instead.”

Emma recalls Ingrid coming in and out of her home when Emma was growing up. Ingrid was the best friend, the best older sister she could ask for. When her mother made her cry, she would run to Ingrid, watching as her friend made Emma’s favorite ice-cream out of thin air to cheer her.

“I don’t understand why you’d need to steal the sailor’s heart to get me to agree to that,” Emma whispers. “Even if you and I don’t get along, you should know that I’ll do anything for Ingrid.”

Elsa loosens her grip on Killian’s heart. Emma looks over to the exhausted man, who is wringing his hands and breathing heavily.

Emma doesn’t like people in misery unless she is the one causing it. She especially doesn’t like her toys being tortured, unless she is the one doing the torturing.

Elsa stupidly lets down her guard, just like she always does. Her hand is loosely holding the heart and she’s looking out the port window rather than at her. _Elsa’s always distracted by one thing or another._

Quick as a whip, Emma flicks her wrist, and Killian’s heart flies from the Ice Queen’s grip into her own waiting hand. Emma flashes a smirk as she stands, thawing all traces of ice from the heart with her fiery rage.

“I’ll do anything to keep that Snow Witch out of my life,” she amends with a hiss. “She may have been my sister growing up, taught me to control my magic, took care of us, but she was never _my_ blood. She was never interested in _me_ , just what I could do.”

Elsa visibly shrinks as Emma turns her back on her and walks over to Killian. It’s clear act of dismissal, showing Elsa that she isn’t as important as she thinks. Emma is and always will be stronger than the Ice Queen. That’s why Elsa needed leverage in the first place.

“Relax,” Emma whispers to Killian when her hand rests on his tense chest. He relaxes unnaturally under her touch, by command rather than by trust. “I’m going to return this, and then I want you to go to the Captain’s quarters and rest in bed. You look like hell. I‘ll deal with this.”

He nods wordlessly as she pushes the heart into his chest, making him fall forward, into her shoulder. He breathes rapidly for a moment before regaining his composure. She shushes him softly, rubbing circles into his back.

“Emma?” Elsa asks timidly now that she doesn’t have the advantage.

“Quiet,” Emma snaps. She doesn’t need to look to know that Elsa flinched. “Jones, can you walk?”

He nods, finding his balance and pulling away from her comforting grip.

“Please don’t kill her, Swan,” he utters, eyes barely focusing. “Don’t judge someone based on what they do because they’re desperate.”

Emma raises her brow in question. She can feel the double meaning to his words. He always has a double meaning.

“Are you really going to _defend_ her? Ask for _merc_ y? _Again_ ?!” she gasps. _First the wolf guard, now her?!_ “She stole your heart! She could have made you do anything, and you would have! It wouldn’t be blackmail or manipulation. You would have no choice but to do her bidding. Do you understand that kind of power?”

He doesn’t respond at first, swallowing thickly before nodding. “Yes,” he says hoarsely. “I do understand, Emma. I may not be an adventurer. I may not be brave, but I do understand being controlled by magic. Don’t kill her. Sometimes the bravest thing is not to fight. Sometimes mercy is the wisest choice.”

She isn’t sure what it is, perhaps the way his words sound a bit too much like an _order_.

Emma Swan hates orders.

In an instant she has her hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing until his skin turns white as he gasps.

“Do not mistake my actions for caring, Jones. I do not like people stealing from me. If she hurt you, if she killed you, it would be like stealing you from me. Don’t get any ideas about making demands. If I want to kill her, if I want to wring her scrawny neck or melt her with one of my fireballs, then I will. If I want to take your heart and have my wicked way with you, than I will. Do not think of us as partners, as equals, as anything.  And don’t you dare give me orders, Jones.”

She releases him as the final word leaves her mouth, turning her back on him. She regrets her temper as soon as she finishes her tirade. She doesn’t want to look at him as he tries to change her mind. She doesn’t want to see him look at her like the monster she truly is.

 _Why is Elsa here?_ Emma was happy teasing the sailor, watching him get flustered, probing his mind like she was a person, not the evil creature she really is.

 _Perhaps it’s for the best, after all. Now he doesn’t have to wait to see who I truly am._ The thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

Without another word, he hobbles out of the room to one of the cabins. Emma suppresses an ounce of hurt that he didn’t even say a single stupid thing back to her.

Emma whirls around to glare at Elsa, smirking as she shifts her focus from regret to the way she bested the Ice Queen. Elsa stands straight, trying to hide the fear in her eyes, fear that feeds Emma’s glee.

“You’re lucky, ice cube. Killian is a better person than I am. I’d rather him not believe I’m a total murderer,” Emma hisses.

“Understandable,” Elsa replies. “Since you _like_ him.” It sounds like the taunt of a teenage. Elsa has always been juvenile.

Emma’s eyes flash dangerously. “Don’t push me.”

Elsa just rolls her eyes and closes the distance between them. “That’s not a denial, Ems,” she adds with a smirk “But fine. If you insist, I didn’t finish explaining my _deal_ anyway. I want you to help me free _our_ sister, and in exchange, _I’ll_ keep your _secret_.”

Emma crosses her arms, leaning back smugly. “I don’t have a secret.” She ignores her own unintentional admission of caring for the sailor.

“What is it you always say? Oh yeah, _knowledge is power._ ” Elsa says with a wink. “And I have a bit of information about that time you ran away from the Queen. You visited a particular fairy for help. Ring a bell?”

Emma hisses angrily. Her black magic surges again. She desperately wants to let it out, willing to let it consume a bit more of her soul just to quiet Elsa’s insipid talking.

“My own little assistant knows too, and he is to share this knowledge if I don’t return,” Elsa threatens. “You wouldn’t want anyone to learn of your dalliance, or your mother to know exactly what became of the result.”

Emma snaps, grabbing the blonde by the throat, slamming her into the wall.

“I will kill you,” she hisses. “Right after I kill your ice cube seller.” Emma understands Elsa’s allusions, and she knows the Ice Queen won’t hesitate to blow apart Emma’s whole world.

Emma has made a lot of mistakes in her life, hurt a lot of people, but Elsa’s threat will hurt the one person in this world that Emma always puts first. Emma will die before she lets that happen.

But she can’t risk Elsa having told anyone else, she can’t let her anger put her secret in jeopardy. So, despite all her instincts screaming at her to do otherwise, Emma releases Elsa.

“ _After_ I rescue Ingrid.”


	5. A Deal with the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/23/17: Beta read by notoriouscs

_ It’s not poison! They told us it wasn’t, remember? Here! I’ll prove it to you!” Thorns claw at his tanned skin as another hand, his brother’s, tries to swat the plant away, but it is too late. _

_ “No! Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Black lines trail visibly through his veins, spreading quickly, too quickly. The older of the two falls to his knees as his companion barely catches him, cradling him desperately. _

_ “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the younger boy yells, begging and pleading for his brother to wake up. Why isn’t he waking up? _

 

Killian jerks from his dream _ ,  _ a cold sweat on his face, his body trembling _.  _ He shakes his head in a feeble effort to clear his mind of the day in his dream, the worst day of his life. He’d give his left hand to be able to go back, to be able to change the course of his life from that day.

“Sleep well, Jones?” sneers a voice, making him jump in surprise.

“Swan,” he murmurs, noticing her green eyes glowing eerily in the darkness of the cabin. She reminds him of a cat stalking her prey. “Wha-what are you doing here?” he stutters. A woman isn’t to be in a man’s cabin after hour. It isn’t good form. That’s something he learned from the Captain, not  _ him. _

_ He _ would laugh at that advice, saying that if a woman chose to grace you with her presence, no matter the hour, you had to do the gentlemanly thing and give her what she desired.

The Captain once beat a man within an inch of his life for daring to conduct his disgraceful activities on the Jewel, even though the lass was the man’s fiancée. In all honesty, Killian thought the Captain just desired the woman, and hid his jealousy behind his code of honor.

Swan chuckles, shifting from her chair. “Just making sure you aren’t dying from all the screaming I heard. What’s wrong, Jones? Nightmare?” she teases. She is trying for humor, he can tell. It isn’t her fault that her words hit a nerve, making Killian tense.

He knows why he was screaming. He was watching…he shudders.

“And is that any of your business?” he snaps, harsher than he intends. Killian blames his frazzled nerves on the previous night’s events, those and his nightmare. “Since I mean nothing to you? Since I’m just one of the tools under your belt?” He hopes she doesn’t notice the way that came out, the way his cheeks flush. Killian was insulted by her words, hoping that his daring rescue had earned him at least a little credit.

But Swan is smirking the way only she can, the way she does when she’s enjoying making him uncomfortable.

“But you’re my  _ favorite _ ,” she teases. “A girl can have a favorite, can’t she?” 

He doesn’t reply, instead turning to grab a change of clothes from ontop of the drawers. He felt on edge even being here, let alone keeping his things here. The instant he arrived back in the cabin the night before, he collapsed into bed, trying to ward off the emptiness he felt when the maiden took his heart and the terrifying cold that still lingered. He’s never experienced anything so exhausting.

“Perhaps, but not if she continues to treat people like tools,” he shoots back. “Eventually, Swan, you’re going to have to learn how to trust people, to let them know that you don’t see them as things, but as people.” 

“You seem to know a lot about trust, Killian. So tell me, how do you know that someone won’t break it?” she asks with an edge. “All my life I’ve learned that  _ love, trust _ , it’s all a means to an end. It’s not real, its  _ weakness _ .” 

He takes a step toward her.

“Aye, in the wrong hands it is. But in the right hands, it’s quite the opposite,” he explains. After all, someone had to, and she literally held his heart in her hands the day before. That earned him a little leeway to speak his mind, didn’t it?

“Tell me, Swan, have you ever been in love?”  

_ When everything feels right, when you feel so entirely open with another person that you feel nothing but glee, when the darkness fades and light takes its place. _ It was what he had with Milah, even though he never told her, not once. He wanted to wait, wait until they were free of their pasts, their mistakes. But he never got to tell her. It’s the second biggest regret of his life.

“No,” she says, turning away, her eyes like stone. “I’ve never been in love.” She storms out of the room without another word.  

He suspects this time it was his turn to hit a nerve unknowingly.

Killian sighs. He really thought he had made at least a bit of progress at seeing beneath the dark feathers to the woman beneath.

“Let’s go, Jones!” she calls, making him jump and rush after her.

“Yes, Swan,” he drones. “Whatever you say, Swan.” He doesn’t bother to mask his own frustration at her constant mood swings. 

“Is she being all moody as usual?” chirps a voice. Her voice makes him jump in surprise. He sees the Ice Witch once they reach the deck, casually sitting in a newly-conjured ice chair. 

He remembered feeling the power in her voice when she held his heart, ordering him around, the feeling of her cold fingers in his chest, the inability to make a sound or resist her words. The utter hate he felt at revealing pieces of his soul to both Swan and this witch. He had no desire to tell either of them about sailing with Liam, but he was ordered to make Swan relax. As much as he resisted, he had no choice in the matter.

Her orders left no room for compromise.

“What’s she doing here?” he growls. He hadn’t appreciated being turned into a hostage on his own ship – no, the Captain’s ship, but he had more ownership of it than either of them.

“What’s wrong, Jones? I did as you asked, kept her alive. I thought you’d be  _ happy _ with that,” Swan sneers as she sits in her own self-created chair, a black-feathered seat, fitting for the Dark Swan.

He shoots a hateful look at Elsa. He didn’t want anyone to die, but he certainly hadn’t wanted her to stick around. 

He can only deal with one dangerous blonde at a time.

“I’d prefer if she didn’t stay on the Jewel,” he mutters, taking his position at the helm. Elsa blinks seductively, making him blush. “And if she must, can’t she stay in the brig or something?”

Swan chuckles. “As much as I’d love to stick Frosty over here in the brig, sadly her royal upbringing would be outraged enough to cause us nasty issues.” 

“I’d sooo kill you,” Elsa says with a dark giggle.

“Hate ya,” Swan replies.

“Likewise sis,” Elsa retorts.

“We came to an arrangement,” Swan continues her explanation to Killian after her juvenile moment with Elsa. “We’re heading to Arendelle’s magical prison to rescue an old friend of mine.”

He raises his eyebrow. He didn’t remember the Dark One having any friends in the tales he learned in his youth.

“Are we?” he challenges. “How exactly do you plan to get there?” He looks between them, Killian doesn’t understand magic, but he suspects even the Dark One’s magic has it’s limits. 

He certainly can’t afford to keep the ship much longer. He is already in a world of trouble. “My captain will get back to port any day now. I need to return the Jewel before he arrives.” 

Elsa giggles. “Ooh. We’re on a stolen ship? What fun!” 

Swan just rolls her eyes. 

“What’s to stop us from just locking you up in the brig? Or better yet, throwing you overboard?” Elsa sneers. 

Killian takes in a breath, wondering what the chances are that Elsa would carry out her threats. He doesn’t like the odds.

_ “Find yourself in a pickle Killian? Stand tall, don’t back down, and prove your worth. People are selfish creatures, make it seem like it’s in their own best interest to keep you around.” _

_ His _ words sprout in Killian’s head. He swallows his fear and brightens his grin.

“Can either of you lasses sail a ship? Navigate through Arendelle’s treacherous current?” he asks. Killian doesn’t need to see their exchange of glances to know those answers. “Lock me in the brig if you like. I have no royal honor to appease. I’ll go there without hassle, but I’d like to know I won’t be resigning myself to death if I do.” 

Swan sighs. “You said you had some unrealistic motive for rescuing me. Tell me, do you want to make someone fall in love with you?” she asks.

He shakes his head. 

“Do you want to bring someone back from the dead?” 

Again, he shakes his head. What was she getting at? 

“Or how about change the past?” 

He shakes his head one more time. 

“Anything apart from those three things is doable with some creativity. I’ll promise to grant you one request if you help me with this,” she vows.

Killian debates with himself, but knows there is really no question. He saw how powerful she was, how powerful her magic was. If she couldn’t do it, no one could. He will do anything to fulfill his mission. 

_ Anything. _

“Alright,” He replied gravely. “I need –.”

She put her hand up to cut him off.

“After. My curse makes me keep my end of any deals I make. Once we finish this rescue mission, you can make your request. Besides, you could always change your mind.” 

Killian nods, glad to have the time to think out his words carefully. He knows that he would never waver on the request itself, but plenty of tales about the Dark One warn about her penchant for exploiting loopholes in clumsy requests. 

“So how far away are we?” Elsa questions, breaking through his thoughts. 

“I’ll need to consult one of the maps,” he replies, earning an eye roll from Swan.

“Please,” she moans. “I looked at your captain’s maps. None of them are even remotely accurate.” 

That makes Killian laugh. It’s the first time he’s heard anyone state this fact, something he realized instantly when he first saw them.

The Captain was never very good at keeping accurate notes of his journeys or of buying newer, more accurate maps. He relied on his ‘gut instinct’ that was always leading him astray. It was a miracle the ship got anywhere at all, a miracle and the small fact that his first mate’s fiancée was a mermaid who often swayed the tides to their favor.

“Ah, but you’ve never seen  _ my  _ maps, _ ”  _ he counters in a rare bit of triumph. She raises a brow as he disappears into the supply quarters. He pries open a box in the back of the room that is hidden along with most of his other possessions.  

He prides himself on keeping the best collection of maps in the realm, even if no one but he ever saw them. He looks up to see Swan watching him.  _ Until now. _

Swan stays quiet as he nimbly searches through the stack of maps, looking for the relevant one. She moves a bit closer as he flips through them.

“You collect maps?” she asks. “These are incredible!” 

Killian nods, glancing between the maps and Swan’s face with pride. There are dozens of maps, different seas, different realms, different angles. If a place touches the sea, he has a map for it.

“Since I was a boy. I made some after sneaking glances at them at markets where I couldn’t afford to buy the real thing, but I assure you, love, they are nothing if not accurate,” he proclaims as she lifts a map of Camelot out of the pile. That one entailed sneaking back to the market several times, nearly getting caught by the seller on more than one occasion. It was worth it, if only for this moment. He can tell she is impressed. 

“I didn’t know you were a fan of cartography,” he says.

Swan shrugs. “Being the Dark One means I have to be knowledgeable about a lot of things, including where I’m going,” she says vaguely. “But I wish I knew more about it, about making something so beautiful with what I know.” She is holding his map of Wonderland. How she knows it’s one he made, he doesn’t know.

His next words slip out before he can stop them. “Perhaps I could teach you.”

She smiles back. “Perhaps.”    

He grins as he pulls his gaze away, flushing at the tease in her voice. The very thought that _ he  _ could teach  _ her _ anything is astounding. 

Then he feels the parchment he was searching for in his hands. “Now this one, this one is one of my favorites. Arendelle’s oceans are littered with icebergs, deadly obstacles for any ship,” he explains, showing her the map marked with a blue star. “This one is enchanted to sense all things in the sea, from iceberg to sailboat, allowing us to chart a flawless course through them all.” He bought it from a gypsy last time they docked in Arendelle. It cost him nearly a month’s pay and punishment from his controlling captain when several crewmembers caught him buying it, but it was worth the price.

“Where’s this one from?” Emma asks, pulling out an old piece of parchment. He avoids her eyes. He knows exactly what peaked her curiosity. “It’s just a bunch of arrows and notes,” she observes, flipping the parchment back and forth. “It’s not even enchanted.” 

He sees her fingers rubbing the faded notes, and he snatches it back harshly, making sure the notes are still legible with a sigh of relief. It is his most prized possession, and he doesn’t know what he would do if  _ his _ swirly handwriting was lost to the abyss of time. 

“This,” he says, filing it back neatly where it belongs, “is a part of my request which you don’t want to hear yet.” 

The Dark One rolls her eyes. “Sailor’s getting brave,” she teases. 

“I’d call it stubborn,” he shoots back. 

“So, how far away are we?” she asks, reminding him why they were down here in the first place. He analyzes the enchanted map, recalling the course he set the day before, tracing it with his finger, considering their placement based on the previous night’s stars.

“The day after tomorrow, I believe,” he replies, stowing his map collection and leading Swan back topside so he can make some adjustments to the sails. “I’ll be able to give a more accurate arrival time once we hit nightfall and I can see the stars.”

She nods simply, a smirk finding its place on her lips. “Good. That should be just enough time to teach you how to handle a sword.”

Killian freezes. “What?!”

She laughs.

“You didn’t think you were going to wait on the ship, did you?”

Killian had surely hoped so…

 


	6. Swords and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/26/17 Beta read by notoriouscs

 

Emma knew it would be entertaining to teach the meek sailor to fight. He was awkward enough with his words and actions. So she had expected his clumsy footwork and inefficient movements, but she hadn’t counted on him flinching and blushing every few motions. 

“Swan, are you sure I need to learn this? You and the Ice Queen seem to be very powerful yourselves. You don’t need me,” he tried to reason for the third time since they began sparring. It’s starting to sound more like a whine than a logical argument.

“Arendelle is a pirate’s haven. As long as they agree to do the occasional errand for the king, and they don’t steal from the palace itself, they are allowed to do as they want,” Elsa explains dryly, her eyes glued to her nails and an icicle nail file. “But those who are magical are hunted and imprisoned. We need someone who doesn’t have magic to help us fool the guards once we get to the prison.” 

Emma lunges, and Killian deflects the blow with a flick of his wrist, using the movement they were currently practicing. She strikes again, aiming lower. 

Killian deflects it again, rather clumsily this time. She breaks past his defenses and pokes him in the chest with her sword, sending him tumbling to the ground. She holds the blade against his neck.

“Dead,” She states plainly. “ _ Again.” _

“We’re doomed,” Elsa moans. “He’s hopeless.”

Emma shoots her a look, silencing her. While Emma didn’t think Killian would be good, she had no way to know he’d be this bad at even the simplest of moves. He’s smart, so she expected him to be a quicker learner. Something in Emma’s gut doesn’t feel right. She has the same prickling sensation she feels when someone tells a lie. She puts down her weapon and studies him for a moment.

“My apologies, lass. I’m just not a formidable foe,” he murmurs, getting to his feet slowly. “Perhaps finding another assistant in a nearby port for this part of the mission will be more useful?” 

Elsa perks up, looking at Emma hopefully. “Please? Come on, you can keep this guy on the boat, and we’ll get someone who actually knows what he’s doing.” 

Emma shoots her another look. “I’m not trusting a stranger with my life,” she snaps angrily. “At least with Jones here, I know he’s honest. He just needs some more practice, and for you to stop with the negativity.”

Emma hadn’t been paying attention to his feet during their sparring, more concerned with how he moved his blade. This time, as she lifts her weapon, she watches his feet slide into a perfect stance almost naturally. Emma hasn’t shown him how to stand.

Elsa rolls her eyes and gives an exaggerated royal wave. “Then I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when you realize that the sailor is useless.” And then she is gone. 

They both let out a sigh of relief. 

Emma has never gotten along well with Elsa, and her presence on the ship is only making Emma’s mood worse. Plus, Emma wants to speak to the sailor without the Ice Queen’s frosty commentary getting in the way.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Emma snickers, putting her sword aside. She moves closer to Killian so she is just behind him. She feels him tense as she places her hand over his where he grips the sword.

His breathing hitches as she moves with him, demonstrating proper technique. Up, down, to the right, left, a twirl of the wrist. “You’re too bad at this for it to be natural,” Emma says.

Killian flinches. 

“Because it’s not natural! You’re faking!” she accuses, pulling back. 

He scratches nervously behind his ear, making Emma grin. She knew it!

“Why don’t you want to fight? Do you have some loyalty to Arendelle that I’m not aware of?” Emma questioned. “If you know how to fight, then why did you literally cut open your hand when you helped me with the guard?” Nothing's making sense right now, at least when it comes to the sailor. “I’d assume sword fighting is a necessary skill on a ship.”

Killian doesn’t respond, so Emma decides to give him a lesson in self-preservation. She draws her sword and strikes with full force. Killian, eyes wide, raises his blade to block the attack. He can tell she’s done sparring. That attack was aimed to kill…or at least to maim. Emma could always heal any injuries that are too bad…maybe.

“Bloody hell, Swan! What are you trying to do? “ 

Emma doesn’t respond, swinging her sword in another offensive maneuver. He is able to block this one too. She attacks over and over, noting his increasingly proficient parries.

“Don’t lie to me, Killian. Lying makes me very, very angry,” she says, lashing out.

“Because I don’t want to hurt anyone!” he shouts back, expertly performing the move she had been “teaching” him. “I don’t want to know how to fight! I don’t want any part of this!”

“Why?” she demands. “Did you lose one bad fight? Are you too cowardly to pick up the blade again? Or did you accidentally kill someone?”

Something flickers in his eyes, she just isn’t sure what. 

“I think someone died the last time you held a weapon. Someone you loved _ ,”  _ she taunts. Emma can see she’s making him angry.  _ Good! Anger is one of the most driving emotions. _ Anger sparks her most powerful magic. 

“Were you too weak to protect someone? Or were you the killer? I prefer the latter. It would be so annoying if you got squeamish at the sight of blood.”

He slashes out at her, moving offensively for the first time since their lesson began. It’s a hasty and clumsy attempt, but it’s the most progress she’s seen so far.

“Good! Tuck in your leg a bit, stay balanced,” she encourages. “Now spill.”

Killian takes a moment to recover his footing. “Why should I tell you my painful past when you haven’t shared much of your own?” he counters darkly.

“Oh? Aren’t you quick to make deals with the Dark One?” she purrs. “Alright. Question for question. But we spar as we talk. You need the practice.” He makes another aggressive movement, trying to strike her in the shoulder. She takes that as a sign of agreement.

“When was the last time you used a blade?” she asks, making him smirk.

“Used or held?” he replies with a snap, coming in close to her. “Because if it were up to me, I’d do neither.”

She shivers as she sees the utter certainty in his words. “Used,” she clarifies, driving him back. “And knowing how to use a weapon isn’t dark, nor evil.” There are definitely some skills Emma has acquired over the years that can be classified as such. Sword fighting isn’t one of them.

“I tried to defend someone. Ended up making everything worse. It cost me dearly,” he says sadly.

“And you blame the art of fighting for that?” Emma asks.  

“I seem to recall it being my turn. Who taught you?” he asks in lieu of an answer.

Emma smiles warmly, recalling one of the few childhood memories that she cherishes. 

“My father. Before he became his ruthless current self, he thought it would be wise to teach me how to ward off all my suitors,” she laughs.  “I think I still have the wooden sword he made for me when I was about ten.” Or at least she used to. Emma winders if her mother kept her things or lit the whole room ablaze when she left.

Oh, how right he had been. Her mother tried to pressure a young Emma into an engagement that suited the Queen’s fancy, and by that point, her father had lost all interest in protecting his little girl. Emma recalls using that same wooden sword to knock a wizard over the head when he tried to get too familiar with a sixteen-year-old sorceress. When she told her father, he simply shrugged.

“Now, why blame the skill for your tragedy? I’m sure there are people more deserving of the blame,” she snorts.

“I do blame others for it. I blame my brother for leaving me, and I blame that bloody island for disappearing from existence,” he growls. “I blame Liam for teaching me that I was strong, that I was invincible. I lost someone I loved because of him. I blame myself for ever daring to pick up a weapon.” He lowers his blade in defeat.

Not the reaction Emma was going for.

“This was a mistake, Swan,” he mutters, unable to stop the trembling of his arm from shaking his sword. “I’m bad luck. I ruin everything I touch. You may think me a coward, but I’ve seen enough pain and misery started by me to know it’s true. Isn’t it better for me to be the only one who suffers? Why drag everyone around me down too?”

It is a question designed for her, a question from one toxic individual to another, a question only people like her can even comprehend.

Emma doesn’t know what drives her in that moment, what brings her to put down her weapon and grip his arm with her own. Perhaps it’s the sudden outburst of pain that tugs on the cracks in her own soul. Perhaps it’s because she is surprised to hear that anyone could truly understand her. 

“Killian,” she says softly. “You’re wrong. You came to my tower to rescue me. You saved my life. I’m not one for thank yous, but I’ll give you one now.” She closes the distance between them. “So thank you. You were brave. You saved me not once, but twice.” 

He doesn’t react, and she keeps talking. “As for why bothering to try? You can’t let the world just beat you down like this! You can’t let them win!”

He looks up, confused. “Them?”

“The people who insist that we are nothing, that we are better locked up and thrown away. Because you and I, Killian…we’re a lot alike,” she admits. “You may call it toxic, but I…I call it being resilient, taking what the world’s given us and having to fight to get by.” She looks up, picturing a dark-haired man who once said similar words to her. “Not a lot of people can handle us, you know? They have to find some way to understand, so they blame. Don’t give in, ok? Don’t give up the fight just to make them happy.”

Killian still looks unsure, his eyes clouded by doubt. But Emma sees something else as well, something she saw before when he was at the helm, navigating by the sky, adjusting the sails, feeling the wind. Emma sees fire in his eyes.  

“Am I right to assume that your brother taught you to use a weapon?”

He nods. 

“Well either he didn’t finish, or you’re rusty, Sailor. Your form is clumsy, and you have the balance of a sponge.” 

He grimaces, but looks amused by her word choice. 

“I think you owe it to both him and yourself to never find yourself in need of saving. If you’re always the one doing the saving, you will be a true survivor,” she continues. “If you’re going to survive on a pirate ship with a couple of sorceresses, then you’re going to need to man up and let a little of the pirate in you out to play, kay?”

He thinks for a moment, then nods, lifting his sword as a wild grin appears on his face. “Aye. What next, Swan?” 

And then she lunges.

 

They spar for hours, and Emma has to admit, once he set his mind to the task, he made remarkable progress. She will turn him into a swordsman yet!  

He wants to keep going, but Emma knows he’s reached his limit when he slips on a board and falls on his face, nearly knocking himself out cold. He tries to insist that he’s fine, but Emma isn’t having it. 

“I am not going to go to all this hard work just to have you exhausted when we get to the real battle!” She is lucky that her magic keeps her body from tiring the same way a regular mortal’s would.

“That is good thinking, Emms,” Elsa purrs, as Emma closes the door to the Captain’s room. She figured it was the most appropriate. 

Emma shoots the Ice Queen a questioning look. Making a quick decision not to risk trusting her, Emma flicks her wrist, enchanting the lock on his door. Just to be safe. The last thing Emma needs right now a mutiny. 

“Smart to pretend you actually care about his pain.” Elsa puts her arm around Emma’s shoulders. “You even had me going for a bit, what with the stuff about your dear old dad and about honoring his sainted older brother,” she laughs coldly.

Emma shrugs off Elsa’s touch with a glare, daring her to try to touch her again. They aren’t friends, nor the sisters they once considered themselves. “I’d have believed you if you had bothered to tell the sailor that he is probably going to die.” Elsa reminds her. “Once they realize we’re gone, they’re going to hang him, or maybe behead him. I haven’t beheaded anyone in a while...” She says trailing off.

“Elsa. Shut up.” She snaps. She doesn’t want to think about that.

“If you truly cared, you would have told him he’s just another pawn in your game, a pawn to be sacked at the next possible moment.”

Emma growls at the frosty royal, warning her away. When she doesn’t get the message, Emma turns her back on her and leaves, but she can’t leave behind the echoes of Elsa’s laughter.

She isn’t upset because Elsa called her out on her plans. 

No, Emma would much prefer that to the truth. Because in truth, she hadn’t meant to tell him about her treasured wooden sword. She hadn’t planned on wanting to help him move on from the loss of his brother. She didn’t want to face the fact that she would get this man killed.

Her own brother had died just moments after birth, when their mother realized he was a boy, and boys don’t have magic, and her mother had –

Emma cuts off the memory. 

He would be three now. 

No. She doesn’t want to hear the truth. 

She’s happier pretending that the Dark Swan has no heart for the sailor to touch, no heart for the sailor to win.


	7. Preperations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta read by notoriouscs

 

 

_“Please! Save him. I’ll pay any price,” he begs, cradling his brother in his arms, rocking him gently._

_A voice snickers, “Those are pretty dangerous words for a pirate.” The boy walks over to a wall of vines, pulling them away to reveal a hidden freshwater spring. “One drink from this will heal him from the poison. But be warned, the cure comes with a price.”_

_He rushes to the fountain, filling his canteen with water and forcing it down his brother’s throat. He doesn’t care about the price. He’d pay anything to save his brother._

_The water works almost instantly, making him cough up the foul poison. “Are you alright, Brother?”_

_The older Jones nods silently, recovering the strength that was sapped by the venom._

_The younger one turns to face the child who assisted them. “You saved my brother. However can I repay you?”_

_For a brief moment, he thinks the child has vanished._

Killian jolts awake.  

He hates that dream, that memory. The day that sent his life spiraling so far down that Killian wasn’t sure he’d even know rock bottom when he hit it. It’s been two days since the beginning of his classes with Swan. Since he realized that he needs to stop avoiding the inevitable. That he needs to start being a man who would make his brother proud.

But he never imagined it would hurt this bloody much. Every inch of his body is screaming in pain, making getting up a real challenge. He has bruises from where the blunt edge of Swan’s sword caught him by surprise and from the places she’d kicked him, saying that he had to be prepared for enemies who would do anything to win.

She even mixed in a few spells in order to help prepare him for an opponent with magic.

“Why do you think he imprisons anyone who can use magic?” she asked him. “So he can control them, bend them to his will, use them as weapons.”

He half suspects, however, that that particular training is a precaution for when the Ice Queen turns on them. Why else was Swan so against helping her at first?

Killian blinks in surprise, wondering when his thoughts became muddled enough to think of as Swan his companion, he and the Dark One a “ _them_.”

It’s not like he doesn’t find Swan attractive. Oh she is, all right. She is beautiful, breathtaking even. If he were asked to imagine the perfect woman, he couldn’t help but imagine the blonde sorceress.

Through her fits of rage, and there have been many, he can see softness that makes him want to hold her close, and promise her that everything will be all right. He can see that she wears her anger as a mask, just as he uses his meek cowardice as his own.

But their friendship, if he can call it that, has a specific timeline. Once she rescues the Ice Queen’s aunt and they return to his home port, she will go  her own way, and Killian will be back to his humble occupation.

He will no longer be pressing into service as the Dark One’s personal ship captain. No, he’ll be back in his place as the Jewel’s lowly deckhand. And that’s if the real captain doesn’t kill him.

He wonders what Swan will say when she learns the truth. She has to have her suspicions.

He stretches his arms upward, cursing as one of his pre-Swan injuries flares with the motion. He pulls up his shirt, grimacing to see the half-healed slash just under his ribs has reopened, staining his shirt with blood.

Killian scowls at the gruesome memory of the day before he’d been coerced into rescuing Emma. He’d barely managed to crawl somewhere safe enough to patch himself up roughly. He knows from experience that it will keep opening due to his poor self-stitching skills. And now that it’s festered, it needs an expert.

“Killian! Wake up!” Swan yells, knocking on his door forcefully. Killian is surprised by her sudden respect for his personal space, but grateful for it as he pulls his shirt over his head as fast as possible. He can’t let Emma see the wound. It would raise questions, more questions than he wants to answer.

_“Stop talking back so much, Killian. All he does is hurt you when you do.”_

He doesn’t want her green orbs to glimpse his older injuries. He fears she’d understand their source all to quickly, and to be quite honest, it is beginning to have a hard time keeping his thoughts away from the lass.

He doesn’t know what he would do if she knew, if anyone knew.

“Just a second, love!” he calls, straightening his red vest before putting on the heavy jacket that Swan had conjured for him. She said it fits the role he will soon need to play, and he should get used to the heavy material now. He can’t help but like the way it feels on him, makes him feel like more than what he is.

The first time he put it on, Swan called him a real pirate.  

Killian hurries, securing the coat and making sure he doesn’t look like he had a restless night of sleep.

She burst through the door, a frustrated growl in her eyes and…quite a bit of ice on her face.

_Now that can’t be good._

“That popsicle demands to know how far away we are, and I can’t make heads or tails of your maps. If I have to hear her complain one more time, I’m going to _let it go_ , “it” being her lifeless body right over the edge!” she seethes. Her riled up magic is leaving singe marks in the shape of footsteps as she enters his room.

Killian smirks. There is something about her rage that is alluring. She is definitely no Milah.

“That’s because they were made for a pirate, love. Pirates code their maps so only the intended user can decipher them,” he explains. “We _are_ on a _pirate_ ship, after all.”

Her eyes search his face, getting angrier all of a sudden. She grips his arm like a bloody harpy, digging in her nails as she drags him upstairs to the main deck. Then she stops, dropping his arm and recoiling like he burned her.

_Did she see? Did she know?_

“Who’s Milah?” she asks.

Killian freezes, looking at the exposed tattoo on his wrist, a heart with her name in it run through with a sword. It might have been a drunken mistake on a night when he let himself fall into the pain of his past, but it is significant all the same. While this exposure is better than Swan seeing the jagged edges of the scars littering his body, it’s still unexpected.

“Someone from long ago,” he murmurs as he attempts to pull down his sleeve, wanting to avoid the conversation altogether. He averts his eyes, feigning fascination with the walls of the captain’s quarters. She insisted that he sleep here, better to get accustomed to his role by feeling the perks of leadership.

“Where is she now?” Swan asks, hand grazing over the colored skin she wouldn’t let him hide. Her anger has disappeared, leaving behind curiosity. Her skin is soft against it, gentle even, but the touch sends lightning up his arm.

“Dead,” he says darkly, the memory making his breathing catch. He can still see the blood, feel the tears that had tumbled from his eyes. Why? Because he hadn’t been brave enough to stop it, because he had been a coward.

Maybe Swan can sense his despair, because she pulls up the sleeve of her blouse, revealing a buttercup inked into her skin. It looks recent, perhaps a year or two old. She also has a strip of leather wrapped around her wrist, and beside it, a bracelet of silver chain with a swan charm.

They didn’t need words to convey their feelings. No words are ever needed when it comes to shared grief.

“Come on then, pirate. Tell us, are we there yet?” Swan asks, changing the subject rather abruptly and pushing him topside with a teasing poke.

He chuckles as they reach the main deck. Elsa is waiting there with cold frustration in her eyes. “This would be so much easier if you’d just kept his heart,” she reminds Emma. “Then you wouldn’t even have to get up. He’d just come whenever you desire him.”

Killian blushes at the double meaning, one Elsa had purposely done. He finds himself riled by her look of triumph. He desperately wants to knock the Queen from her ice pedestal. “The maps are enchanted, lass,” he tells her,  smirking as he has a wicked idea, one that will either get him killed or be quite amusing. It’s something his brother would have done.

Remembering his brother is always better than remembering Milah. It hurts a little less.

“The maps won’t work if you force my hand. A pirate doesn’t like to have his hands tied.”

Elsa meets his gaze, and for once, he doesn’t look away.

“Not by a stranger at least,” he says, giving her his best smolder. “Didn’t know you liked a man in leather.”

Swan cracks up when the slightest pink graces the Ice Queen’s pale complexion. Elsa waves her hands in embarrassment, one move freezing the deck and pulling the pirate away from Emma until her hand is around his throat. He feels the bite of her nails in his skin and the mint in her breath on his face.

Perhaps baiting the Ice Witch wasn’t the smartest play, but he had to do something. He’s tired of being treated like a piece of meat the two women can tug back and forth with their claws. He won’t survive the trip unless he toughens up and starts acting like a _real_ pirate.

Like his brother.

“And are we strangers, pirate?” Elsa finally responds, releasing her grip on his neck.

“You did steal my heart,” he shoots back, licking his lips, pressing a hand over his chest for extra effect. “I’d say that makes us pretty familiar.”

_What is he saying?_

“You think you’re smart because you have _her_ fooled. But you can’t fool me. You’re just like them! You’re either afraid of us, or you want to use us.”

Her swears he sees something flash in Elsa’s eyes.

“Or you leave us.”

It’s a memory of some kind, he thinks.

“I’ve seen my fair share of monsters, lass. You two are by far the most gorgeous,” he says , looking at Swan out of the corner of his eye. She’s tense and at the ready.“No, I don’t believe you’re monsters. Just…desperate souls.” He takes a breath, and then gets back to business. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do my duty and look through my maps? That is what you wish of me, yes?” He waggles his eyebrows, “Unless you can imagine a more pleasurable use for me?”

Elsa groans and pushes him away from her.

“I’m on it, your majesty. We’ll be docking in a few hours. I’ll have us circle around the island to a more covert spot to keep the element of surprise on our side,” Killian finally answers the question that brought him on deck in the first place.

“Fine. Come get me when it’s time,” Elsa dismisses, turning to leave in a flurry of ice shards. “Until then, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

Once she’s out of hearing range, he lets out a large breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. _“_ Bloody hell. _Bloody hell.”_

Killian almost just died. He almost got killed trying to rile up the Queen. But he was still alive, and it had worked. It bloody worked!

Emma lets loose a crackle of laughter, “I can’t believe you did that!”

“Neither can I.” he admits. He feels like he’s about to lose his stomach as the adrenaline recedes. “I was just so tired of her treating me like some sort of animal on your leash.”

Swan nods. “Understandable. She isn’t usually this aggressive. At one point, she was utterly terrified of her powers.”

He looks at her curiously, wanting to know that particular tale. From where he stands, the Ice Queen doesn’t look scared of anything.

“Elsa’s parents died when she and her sister were teenagers. Elsa was set to become queen, but at her coronation, she got into a big fight with her sister and ran away. Elsa’s family never understood her or her magic, and Elsa was terrified of her own powers,” Emma explains. “Ingrid took her in after she ran away and taught her not to be afraid of magic and to love herself, powers and all. I met both of them around then too.” she took a breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Emma adds. “Maybe it’s because I don’t usually agree with Elsa on much, but she made a fair point. Everyone I’ve ever met has either feared me or used me.”

Emma didn’t look at him for a moment, a long moment. Killian didn’t understand it. To him, Emma seems to glow as she laughs, pushing him away and drawing her blade with a smile – a real one. Killian can’t help but marvel at her beauty when she’s like this, blonde hair whipping wildly, eyes alive with power and strength rather than darkness, looking less intimidating, more human, in her sailing attire.

Swan is breathtaking.

He doesn’t care that she has dark magic, it’s just so unbelievable that she could be treated so cruelly by the world.

She looks up and Killian feels like she’s reading his mind. It makes him blush.

“Enough of this,” she says, obviously catching him staring. She holds out her blade for a moment before changing her mind and resheathing it. “I think you’ve had enough practice with a sword. Now you need some magic lessons.”

He freezes, nearly dropping his sword.

“But Swan! I thought magic takes years to perfect, and I don’t have magic, and isn’t that dangerous and –“

She holds up her hand with a bored sigh.

“Are you going to complain every time I make a suggestion, sailor? Because it’s getting annoying.”

Killian’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Sorry, love. You’re just…a very unexpected challenge. I haven’t felt like this in a long while…”

She raises a brow. “Like what?”

Killian bites his lip, face turning practically the same hue as his blood red vest. Is he to tell her that he’s been a coward for so long that he actually forgot how to take a risk? To challenge himself? That he is starting to fancy her from time to time?

_When she isn’t yelling at him of course…_

He settles on, “Like a hero.” He really does feel like a bloody hero, and that scares him. His brother was the hero, the risk taker, the man who swept women off their feet with his charm. Killian was just his kid brother, and then not even that. Just a deckhand.

Swan laughs darkly at his answer.

“If you’re feeling like a hero, it’s not because of me. I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, a hero. My heart is just too dark for that,” she replies. “I turn everything I touch to darkness, even those I love.” Trust me. Stick around long enough, and you’ll either run, want me locked up, or die.”

In a moment of bravery, Killian steps toward her. “For someone who claims to have never been in love, you know an awful lot on the subject of losing it.”

“Maybe…maybe I was in love…once,” she whispers before shaking her head. “But enough on that. Now it’s time for you to learn the plan.”

Agreeing to drop the subject, he watches her touch his sword, noticing it glow blue. “Plan?”

She nods, smiling mischievously. “You didn’t think we were just going to pillage and plunder, did you? No, The Dark One _always_ has a plan.”

With that, Emma strikes him across the face.


	8. The Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/5/17: Beta read by the talented notoriouscs

 

 

They’re trudging through snow. It’s cold on her feet, and the flakes that have just started falling stick to her skin. Her boots are soaked, and she’s in the worst mood possible. Emma doesn’t understand how anyone could want to be around this stuff ever, let alone live in it all the time. She’d prefer a grassy meadow or a stone tavern any day.

“Look Ems! It’s snowing! Isn’t it simply divine?” Elsa says gleefully, practically skipping, and singing.

_ I don’t care about our plan. If she starts singing _ ,  _ I’m going to show her what happens to frozen things in summer, _ Emma vows, eyeing the witch carefully. 

Elsa winks back, obviously knowing that she’s getting to Emma.

The snow is agonizing enough. Emma forgot just how giddy Elsa gets when she’s in her element, literally. It’s disgusting. But it does remind her of her first meeting with the young queen, a memory that felt like a lifetime ago. 

_ Emma had just run away from her mother, lost and alone in the world. She thought she would always be stuck on the run, hiding from Queen Snow’s men.But then Ingrid found her and changed everything. Ingrid was filled with light and happiness who comforted a runaway sorceress when she had nothing. It was the same magical day that Elsa, still in her coronation attire, eyes brimming with tears, found Ingrid and Emma. Everything changed for two scared, powerful young women on the same day.  _

“I hate the snow,” Emma snaps back to the present. “And you. How far is this prison anyway?” It didn’t seem so far on Killian’s map. She can cross realms without breaking a sweat, but she can’t stand this snow for a moment longer.

Elsa stops, tapping her cheek in thought. “Another hour’s walk?” she guesses. “Is that too much for you?” 

“Nope,” Emma replies, popping the p, suppressing her desire to start an argument. They can’t do that. It isn’t a part of the plan. Fighting would get in the way of the show they need to put on, and if there is anything they excel at, it’s putting on a good show.

_ When they first met, their interactions were civil, behavior that was drilled into both of them growing up as princesses in their own castles.They were both dirty little secrets. _

_ The years of hostility from those supposed to love them and the constant emphasis on being in control, showing no emotion, had nearly driven them mad. They were raised as weapons, to one day be unleashed as their kingdoms’ personal attack dogs under the control of their vindictive parents, yet still required to maintain the façade of innocent princesses dispute the curses inflicted upon them.  _

_  Who knew hating your parents could make you such close friends, but close they were. Emma and Elsa were like sisters. _

_ Ingrid, Emma and Elsa were a family. They had been happy. _

Elsa stops for a second, eyeing Emma carefully. Emma gives a small nod in agreement; she sensed their presence as well. If they stop, the plan is ruined, so they press on, both feigning ignorance of the forces watching them. It’s only a matter of time before they make their move. Armies tend not to be the most patient creatures. 

_ It is starting. _

“Hold it, villain!” cries a voice. Emma and Elsa stop, magic at the ready as if surprised by the small group of guards who quickly surround them, brandishing swords. 

Emma smiles at the thought that those metal twigs could harm her. She is the Dark One, and soon, they’ll know what that means. 

“You are in Arendelle. Magical beings like you are strictly forbidden,” says someone, a guard Emma assumes. but his armour looks decorated strangely. She looked over at Elsa.

_ A guard?  _ She silently asks. 

Elsa nods at her before looking back at the group. She steps forward, keeping her back straight as an arrow. “I am Elsa, eldest daughter of Queen Gerda and rightful heir to the kingdom,” she announces in that princess voice that was instilled in both her and Emma since childhood, a voice they would always have in their arsenals whether they liked it or not. “I command thee to lay down your weapons.”

It’s a noble effort, but one they both knew was doomed to fail. Elsa wasn’t the rightful heir in the eyes of the people, not since Ingrid took her away from the castle, away from everything.

_ Ingrid drove the first wedge when she started talking about light magic and forgiving  those who had wronged them. Emma didn’t want to forgive her mother, whom she believed never truly loved her. But Ingrid insisted that because Snow had magic, she could join their family. _

_ She tried no such argument with Elsa’s sister who had long proven her inability to accept what she did not understand. _

_ Ingrid saw the world as us against them. She hated non-magic users, and she believed that possessing magic was enough to bond people together. She thought that with a little love and compassion, Queen Snow could be reformed, that the four of them could be a family. _

_ Emma didn’t take it very well, constantly arguing with Ingrid, who just didn’t understand that Emma’s mother was beyond rehabilitation. The unfeeling monarch who manipulated her own daughter into becoming a monster didn’t want or deserve Emma’s forgiveness.  But Ingrid refused to listen. _

_ Elsa, on the other hand, kept insisting that not all mortals were bad. Emma always caught her staring off into the distance, waiting for something, or maybe someone, to appear in the distance. Emma was sure to it was non-magical, for why else would Elsa keep it a secret? Whenever Emma questioned her, the almost-queen would smile softly. _

_ “He made me a promise,” she said, and that was that. _

“Our king is Hans,” the lead guard says sharply, bringing Emma back to the present. “You, witch, are an enemy of this kingdom.” Elsa isn’t fazed by his assertion. She’s heard it many times before.

Suddenly there are guards upon them, swiping at them mercilessly with their weapons, aiming to kill, not capture. 

The sorceresses reply just as fiercely. After so much time in the close quarters of the ship, they desperately need the release of tension, the release of the darkness gripping their hearts, the release that these foolish guards seem oh so eager to give them.

It would be so easy to just kill them all with a single wave of her wrist, burying them in the snow, watching as they struggle for breath, as the life slowly drains from their bodies. Such a sight would fill Emma with glee, but then more will come. And when she dispatches those, then the magical prisoners under Hans’ control will be summoned to deal with them. No, Emma can’t have that. She needs to be underestimated, to be overlooked as a real threat.

So she doesn’t allow the battle to seem so totally one-sided. Instead Emma burns the guards with fireballs or breaks their bones by sheer force of will instead of what she’d usually do if she  _ wanted  _ to win: tear out their hearts one by one.

She looks to her left to see Elsa freezing solid those foolish enough to come at her, sending each human ice sculpture crumbling with a quick blow from an icicle staff. Her chilling laugh pierces the air as her power merges with the everlasting snowstorm. 

If anyone questioned if they were monsters before, they wouldn’t after seeing the lack of regret in their eyes, Elsa’s joy as she kills, and their smirks reveling in their complete control. They work well together, the two bloodthirsty blondes. Just like old times, except now they can actually kill people.

_ Then one day Emma told Elsa her plan. Emma was going to run away. She was tired of obeying Ingrid’s rules, of always feeling like she let Ingrid down when she just couldn’t feel how the woman wished she would. _

_ Elsa lost it, screaming that Emma was leaving her like everyone else did. She begged Elsa to leave too, but her sister couldn’t leave her only blood family she had left. Emma swore to Elsa that she’d be back, she’d come back for her, for her sister. _

_ And Emma did return a few years later, but instead of triumphant, she came back lost and afraid again, just like when Ingrid found her the first time. Emma was burdened by a terrible secret, and she needed Elsa. She needed her sister. _

_ But when Emma left, their sibling love had melted to bitter rivalry. Both felt betrayed by the other. Elsa’s coldness when she most needed her support reaffirmed for Emma that she was better off alone. She was better off without magic. And so Emma did what she did best.  _

_ She ran. Ran from Ingrid, ran from Elsa, ran from her kingdom. _

_ Ran from her fate. _

Something smacks Emma on the back, knocking her from her memories to whirl around to face her attacker,.

“Hello, lass. Miss me?” drawls a voice, flashing a wink with his good eye. 

“Of course, Captain,” she replies evenly, conjuring her blade as all the approaching guards back off, watching the two circle each other slowly. “I’d never get tired of your pretty face.” And then she strikes.

He blocks her attack with ease, flicking his wrist just so to pull the blade from her grip. 

“But it isn’t so pretty anymore, is it?” she teases darkly, eyeing the dark bruise on his face. Without a second thought he slashes at her, cutting open her wrist.

She hisses in pain before switching to fireball attacks. He doesn’t panic, just calmly deflects the magic with his enchanted sword, driving her backwards with her own firepower. Emma notices the remaining guards, those not being slaughtered by the homicidal Ice Queen, of course, watching with awe. This newcomer is easily dealing with the monster who was demolishing their forces unchecked only moments before. 

In sudden fury she leaps at him, really aiming for her fallen weapon.

“I’m going to cut out your throat, you dirty pirate,” she spits as she pulls the sword toward her with a bit of magic and shoots him a coy smirk.

“Dirty? I bathe quite frequently, thank you,” he responds. He swings full force, hitting Emma across the face with the blunt side of his weapon.

She blinks once before losing her balance and falling backward. He catches her quickly, bridal style, head rolling onto his shoulder. She may be the Dark Swan of the realm, but even she has her weaknesses. She just hopes sharing them with the sailor was the right choice. 

He settles her gently on the ground. “Good night, my fair maiden.” It’s soft and sweet in her ear, making her fight a smile as she drifts into unconsciousness. 

Another whisper of his voice is even lower. “You can trust me, Swan. All will be well. Your plan will work.”

 

Emma wakes much as she expected to, chained to the wall in a cell. The restraints scratch at the rash left behind from her last stint in captivity, but these chains are a bit wider than they should be, nothing like the ones back in her tower. They barely suppress her magic. She had thought Hans was an expert in this, or perhaps she is just more of an expert at escaping. she doesn’t know.

Fortunately, they separated her from Elsa. Emma couldn’t handle the Ice Queen’s whining for the duration of their rescue/escape. Hopefully Elsa stuck to the plan and let Killian best her as well. They had decided that getting him close to whoever was in charge of this prison was the best course of action. Convincing the King’s forces to see Killian as their savior seemed like easiest way to make that happen.

But Emma has to admit, he is getting good with a sword. She only has a few notes of improvement for him from their staged fight. Sure, her magical attacks missed purposely, and she had taught him the move that ripped her sword from her hand, but with a few more weeks of practice, he might even surpass her with a blade. 

“Rise, demon,” demands a voice. Emma turns her head and moves closer to the bars, making the armor-clad guard jump.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Where’s the Captain? He’s the one who caught me, not any of you incompetent fools.” 

The man doesn’t react, instead pushing a tray through a small hole in the bars. It’s disgusting. She’d rather starve than eat that mess. Good thing it’s not an issue, since the Dark One doesn’t actually need food.

“He is speaking to the King,” the guard replies stiffly.

_ The King? _ Emma suppresses a groan.  _ She expected the fool to come when he heard they captured his sister-in-law _ , but she had hoped he wouldn’t arrive so quickly.

No matter. Her plan will still work. They always do.

“Speaking about little ol’ me?” she flirts. “You Arendellians sure know how to flatter a lady.”

The man grins a little too widely. It makes Emma nervous. He steps closer to her cage, aiming to taunt her. He obviously doesn’t know who she is, what she can do. Perhaps she had let them underestimate her a little too much if they think these chains will keep her magic at bay. 

“Actually, my king isn’t too trusting of late,” smirks the guard.  “He has a foolproof way of ensuring that no foreigner who tells him a lie lives to tell another.” 

Emma doesn’t like the sound of that, especially since every word leaving Killian’s mouth is sure to be just that.

Thoughts whirl in her head. Stick to the plan and don’t worry about him, or risk the whole operation to ensure he isn’t in danger? To be honest, when she came up with the plan, she hadn’t paid much attention to whether the Sailor lived through it, but that was before...before she realized that he could still be useful to her, he could still entertain her. 

_ He’s more than entertaining isn’t he? _

The plan was for her to slip out, find Elsa and Ingrid and get out. If she looks for Killian now, it puts the plan at risk, they could all be caught, forced to do Hans’ bidding. That is a fate worse than death in her eyes. She should trust the plan, let things happen how they scripted. Yes, Emma will stick to the plan…

The guard moves to retreat from the cell bars, and Emma flips from strategizing to acting on her primal instincts. 

“Well, knowledge is power after all,” she snickers, breaking her chains and flinging herself against the cage. The bars, enchanted with something strong, burn her skin, but it’s no matter _. Burns will heal_ , she thinks. _But this won’t._ Emma shoves her hand into the man’s chest before he has a chance to flee. He can only gasp silently, as her first thought while gripping his beating heart is _be_ _silent._

It pulses red in her hand, oh so pretty. Emma looks up, seeing the shock and fear in the man’s eyes.

Now he knows who he’s messing with. Now he knows what happens when you cross the Dark One.

“Tell me, soldier, what does your king wish to do to the Captain?” 

He has no choice. He spills his guts to her, voice dripping with terror. 

She curses under her breath as she hears what they plan for  _ her _ sailor. 

This is not part of the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't reread some of this for a while, and I forgot how much I loved writing that ending.


	9. Secrets from Beyond the Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/14/17: Betad by the awesome notoriouscs

 

He hates the violence he was forced to inflict on Swan.

But he loves the feeling of awe from the guards, like he’s a knight who slayed the dragon. It’s completely different from the snickers, from the pity he usually saw from the men in port.

He feels strong and bold.

Killian’s eyes scan the field for one of the men, a young one who looks only a bit scorched by Emma’s wrath. He points at him, then at Swan.

“You. Pick her up. Gentle, don’t jostle her too much, or she’ll awaken and slaughter you all,” he snaps at the guard. Emma had told him to act confident and make demands, specific ones, to see if the King’s men will follow. 

They do.

Killian turns his attention to the lead guard, who is busy trying to suppress the bleeding of one of his men. Killian should be repulsed that he is siding with the creatures who did so much damage, inflicted so much needless pain.

“Don’t just stand there!” the leader snaps, eyeing Elsa, who is laughing wildly. “Get her!”

_ Take no less than 200 gold pieces. _

“I’ve come for the Dark Swan on behalf of my kingdom. She’s made herself an enemy of the Queen for far too long. Worse than that, she gave me this little shiner,” Killian says, pointing to the dark bruise under his eye. Emma had said it made him look more serious and more legitimate. If had truly been tracking her, he’d certainly have sustained at least a little damage for his trouble. He assumed that was her own ego flaring. 

“ _ She _ is not part of my payment from Misthaven,” Killian says, pointing to Elsa.

The guard in charge curses, taking a bundle of coins from his pocket and throwing it toward Killian. “If you fail to bring them in, I’ll be collecting my money back from your cold, dead corpse,” he growls.

Killian snickers, snatching the coin pouch out of the air and giving it a greedy grin. He doesn’t need to count it to know it’s worth more than he makes in a year as a deckhand. Imagine everything the he can buy when they survive this!

_ If _ .  _ If _ they survive.

Taking down Elsa feels much better than knocking out Swan. Elsa also lets him win, and it’s bad form to lay a hand on a lady, but it still feels really good to cold cock her with the hilt of his sword. Her maniacal laughter is just plain annoying.

The remaining guards bind Emma and Elsa, carrying the maidens in the direction of their fortress. According to Swan, that is where he must draw the line, demanding that he claim the glory for delivering the Dark Princess to his kingdom. He doesn’t want to be left out of the loop. He recalls this being key to getting some attention.

(He may make some insinuations about his intentions with her, but she did tell him to appear to be a  _ devilishly handsome rapscallion. _ ) 

And just as she predicted, the troops insist that she be taken along with Elsa to their prison for the night, and in the morning, The Dark Swan will be handed back to him to do with her whatever he wishes. It’s a lie of course, but he goes along with it. He expects the king’s forces to try to convince him to stick around and assist with retrieving magical prisoners, an offer he will refuse at first, but will eventually accept.

It is a brilliant plan, to say the least. Perform a simple con, and then he’ll free the lasses, they’ll rescue the aunt, and the four of them will make a clean escape.

But Killian has a gut feeling that something is not right. He wonders if he’s done something wrong, or acted too bold, but he can’t figure out what. The men take him to the dining room as thanks for a job well done. It was supposed to be a moment for them to pump Killian for information.

However, the guards simply watch him eat his meal in  tense silence, exchanging nervous glances. No one questions him about his experience hunting the sorceress. No one even asks his name. The frosty reception continues as one of the prison’s servants lead him to his quarters for the night, a grand bedroom with a giant four-poster bed and a roaring fireplace. The accommodations are fit for an honored guest,  a hero, but he doesn’t trust the gesture. As soon as he’s left alone, he bolts for the door to test the handle, half expecting it to be locked from the outside, trapping him as a prisoner.

It isn’t.

_ Stop being paranoid Jones. This is the best sleeping quarters you’ve ever seen, and you get to sleep in that bed! _

So Killian sleeps, though he keeps his sword in his hand under the pillows. 

His unease only grows as daybreak arrives. When guards rouse him from his slumber, he nearly takes of their heads.

“The King has arrived. He wishes to speak with you, Captain,” one of them announces, flashing Killian a grin. It’s too malicious a look for this audience to be a good thing. The King is not a part of Swan’s plan. With her locked in the dungeon, he is going to have to wing it.

“Oh? And what does his majesty want with little ol’ me?” Killian snickers, rising to his feet and grabbing his vest from the table to make himself presentable. “If that little wife of his wishes, she can come on in,” he says with a wink. It earns him a scowl.

“The Queen died seconds after her marriage to the King. Everyone knows that. The Ice Witch killed her,” one of the men says before he’s glared into silence by his superior. Killian is sure that Elsa doesn’t know. He distinctly remembers her cursing out her sister several times a day for marrying such a “narcissistic buffoon.”

His unease peaks when they take him to the main dining room. At the far end of the giant table sits a man wearing a far too elegant of a cloak to be just a simple lord or duke. The golden crown on the man’s head is another clue.

The King stands up so he can look down on Killian, even though Killian is sure that he’s a couple of inches taller than the King, even with the crown. The man radiates demeaning smugness. Killian already dislikes him.

“Captain, come sit. Dine with me. We are in your debt for catching my late wife’s killer, may she rest in peace,” the King says with a flick of his wrist. Killian is supposed to sit, so he doesn’t. He’s playing the part of a rebellious pirate. Pirates don’t dine with kings simply because they are asked to, not unless it suits them.

“I don’t appreciate being dragged from my sleep simply for the pleasure of my company,” he says darkly. “What is it you want? Your man here,” Killain waves at the head guard, “has already paid me for my services in capturing the Ice Witch. Unless it’s about my  _ other _ acquisition, I don’t believe you and I are due a conversation.”

_ He’s going to be killed. The King is going to order his execution for his rudeness. This is a terrible mistake!!! _

“Ah yes, the Dark One, more magic in that one than blood,” the King, ignoring Killian’s disrespect. “If her dagger were in this realm, perhaps I’d try to keep her for myself, but no, she’s more trouble than she’s worth. You may keep her, peasant. I’m more interested in you,  _ Captain _ .” 

The King rises to his feet and slowly approaches Killian, removing something from his belt as he walks the length of the long table. It’s a small golden blade, not a weapon for combat, a blade more for decoration than anything else.

“A man appears out of the blue, saves most of my men, and takes down the two most fiendish creatures in the entire realm. It’s very suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?” he sneers, turning the golden instrument in his hands. “What did you say your name was again?”

Killian is tempted to lie to the King, but he is worried that he’ll slip up.

“Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger,” he says in a single breath. The King doesn’t know it, but Killian just voiced one of his greatest desires. He wishes more than anything to be captain of his ship, to call her by her true name.

“Do you know what this is, Captain?” the King asks, showing Killian the blade.

“The Captain” shakes his head. “A toy for a juvenile king?” he guesses with a smirk.

“Cute, but no. This is the Vorpal Blade. It’s not from this realm, you see. It’s from Wonderland.”

Killian keeps his gaze neutral. There is no need to panic. He is sure he can disarm the King. Perhaps he’ll have to use him as a hostage to free Swan if it comes to it. Killian hopes it doesn’t come to it.

“What do I care about your flimsy weapon?” he remarks, pulling out his sword and watching it flicker in the sunlight streaming through the windows. “Now, if you don’t have anything interesting to say, I’d like to get out of here.” He swings his sword in punctuation, ripping through the air with a quick swipe. “With my prize.” 

Suddenly he feels cold, unbelievably cold. Killian remembers the cold that seeped deep into his bones when the Ice Queen held his heart. This is different. This is the chill of uncontrollable fear.

“Your Highness, you called?” snears a voice. Killian turns, pointing his blade at the owner of the voice. She’s a tall woman with unnaturally silver hair and odd silver clothes. He suspects that she is causing his sudden chill, but he doesn’t understand why.

“Yes, Jabberwocky. This man claims he was sent here to capture the Dark One. Tell me if he’s lying,” the King says, spinning the Vorpal Blade in his hands. 

Killian looks between the two menacing figures. This is definitely going to throw a damper in the escape plan.

“He’s afraid,” the woman states, taking an unsettling step toward him. Instinctively, he wants to back up, to get far away from this woman.

_ “A pirate never backs down from a challenge,” _ says the voice in his head. He just needs to keep it together a little longer.

“Everyone is afraid of something, love,” he says, reaching for his dashing rapscallion voice. “Even a dashing pirate.” 

She rolls her eyes, glaring at him as she grips his hand, sending searing pain up his arm.

_ “Take me away, Killian! Please! I beg you, if you don’t, I’ll die! I’ll die, Killian! Please.” _

He gasps and jerks his hand back. The voice, it sounded, it was just like –

“What are you, demon?” he growls. 

The Jabberwocky laughs as she prances around him. “He’s afraid of failing, my King, afraid that the harder he tries, the more people rely on him, the more they will suffer when he inevitably fails.” She grabs on to Killian’s arm this time.

_ “Stay hidden, Killian. It’ll be ok. Just no matter what, stay here.” _

He tries to pull away, but he can’t. She is in his head, pulling and pushing things that should be left well enough alone.

_ “If you want her, fight for her mate, fight! Do you think I’ll let some low life deckhand take my wife without a fight?!” _

He doesn’t want to hear anymore. He doesn’t want to be reminded of his worst moments.

“ _ Do you want to make a deal with me, Captain? His life for yours?” _

Kilian’s eyes widen. He doesn’t remember that. He never had –

_ “Magic always comes with a price, Captain. Are you sure you’re willing to pay it? Are you sure he is?” _

No…why didn’t he remember that conversation until now?

“My King, he has magic in his head,” the creature exclaims, releasing her grip on him. 

Killian feels slightly dizzy. He clumsily drops his sword to the ground and reaches for the table to steady himself. 

“He was not born with it. He doesn’t even know it’s there.” 

He looks up, confusion adding to his vertigo. He can barely breath. Suddenly she takes his hand, unwrapping the bandage around his wound from attacking the guard outside of Swan’s tower. It was days ago, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime since then.

The Jabberwocky traces the wound with her long, cold fingers, making him flinch. He lacks the strength to pull away.

“Who put it there?” the King asks. “Who exactly is Killian Jones?”

The creature brings his hand to her face, a terrifying smirk breaking across it.

_ She knows something. _

She gives a blood-curdling laugh. “I wish I knew myself,”the woman says. She’s digging deeper into his head, he could feel it.

However,he is saved from reacting by a surprise entrance. 

“Captain.”

He pastes on a grin. “Swan, was wondering when you’d get out of your cage. There was no way these imbeciles could keep you contained.” With her presence, he comes back to himself enough to resurrect smooth Captain Jones. 

The Dark One stalks into the grand dining room, hands on her hips, dark attire adding to her intimidating presence. He can practically feel her dark magic fill the air.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun without me,” she says with a wink, approaching him and gripping his shoulder. “Who’s your new friend? You weren’t messing around with someone else while I was busy, were you?” she seethes. “Because that would be very bad form.”

He chuckles, grabbing his sword from the floor but keeping it pointed down. “Please, you’re my number one gal, Swan, but a pirate’s got to do what a pirate’s got to do,” he says with a shrug.

“Hello, Dark One,” the Jabberwocky cuts in. “I hate to interrupt your little lovers’ quarrel, but I can’t resist this buffet.”

Swan turns toward the creature. Both are nearly bursting with dark energy. “Please, everyone knows you feed on fear. The last thing I am is afraid,” Swan assures her. 

Killian feels the succubus grip him again, making him gasp in surprise.

“ _ You really are a pirate, Captain, trading away your own brother’s life. That’s cold, even for me.” _

No…this isn’t true. It isn’t true. He thinks he might be shouting. He wants this to stop.

_ “Go, get him off this island. Make sure he survives until his 30 _ _ th _ _ birthday.” _

No. He wouldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not him, not him. No.

Swan must attack the Jabberwocky, because he is back in the present again, unable to figure out where these voices were coming from. He drops to his knees, gasping for breath.  _ She did it. She put lies in my head to break me. It has to be lies. _

“Touch the pirate again, and I’ll clip those talons of yours clean off,” Swan sneers. 

“He’s not a pirate, my King,” says the Jabberwocky. “He’s a silly deckhand just waiting to die.”

No. It’s a lie. He wouldn’t…he didn’t… No.  _ No _ !

_ Please Liam, say it isn’t true… _

“I knew he wasn’t a real pirate! Doesn’t seem ruthless enough, too soft-hearted,” the King crows. 

Swan gives Killian a careful glance as he finds his way back to his feet. He looks away, not wanting the pity he would surely see in her eyes. She must know he isn’t the man he pretends to be in her presence. She must see how afraid he truly is, how much of a waste his life has been. 

_ If it’s true, than at least my life won’t be a complete waste… _

“You think I’m stupid, bird-brain?” Swan sneers. “I knew he wasn’t really a pirate.” 

Killian looks up at her. 

“But he’s a better person than either of you will ever be – you, the soul sucking demon, and you, a traitorous king. This man, this man is brave enough to free a creature who seems whole-heartedly evil. He saved the monster and reminded her that she wasn’t totally dark.” 

He can hear something in her voice. If Killian didn’t know better, he’d think it was praise or even admiration. 

“He knew that no one should be locked up, no one should be stripped of their free will. He taught this creature that she didn’t have to be evil, that sometimes the bravest thing one can do is not to fight, that sometimes mercy is the wisest choice.”    
  


Something flutters in his chest, something akin to hope. Hope for what exactly, he doesn’t know.

But the feeling fades. In a single lapse in focus, the creature has her hand on her, gripping her, digging her emotional talons into Swan’s skin. She cries out in anger and terror. She tries to pull away at first, almost succeeds in freeing her arm, but then a feral scream escapes her mouth.

“No. Stop it. No!” she yells, her eyes distant. Her knees tremble, on the verge of giving way.

The King chuckles, pulling over a chair for the Jabberwocky to force Emma into. The Jabberwocky holds her down with a second hand on her shoulder, furthering her power over Swan.

“The darkest of hearts often hold the darkest of miseries,” the King explains. “Let the girls have their fun. We men need to have a chat... about your future,  _ Captain  _ Jones.” The King gestures to a chair opposite the one he lowers himself into. 

Killian follows, hoping to block out the sound of Swan’s screams. 

_ Can’t crack. Must stay strong. _

His eyes flit to the weapon in the King’s hand. He _needs_ to get the weapon.

“My mind-reading pet here says you are in want of a ship, of a crew,” the King smirks. 

Killian tenses. “She said no such thing,” he responds. He heard every word the creature uttered, and she never voiced that particular corner of his soul.

“This blade controls her, and holding it gives me insight into her victims,” King Hans says, looking at the Vorpal Blade like a child with a new toy. “Don’t bother denying it. I know who you are, what you want.”

Killian remains silent.

“What if I offer you your own ship? Your own crew? Make this farce you’re playing a reality,  _ Captain _ ? You will never need to be afraid again. You will have all the power.” 

Killian says nothing.

“You will finally have something to show for your life, finally be someone of worth.”

He doesn’t say a bloody word.

But he can’t help but imagine such a future. After all, he’s been cast in the role of swaggering pirate captain for days. 

“All you need to do is come work for me… and let me keep the Dark Swan. Soon the Jabberwocky will know where her blade is hidden, and we’ll be able to control her.”

Killian looks at the King skeptically. Was he mad? No one can control the Dark One, Swan was a force to be reckoned with.

“Her every breath, her every thought! We could bring nations to their knees with her magic,” the King continues his twisted vision of the future “We’ll bring happiness and prosperity back to the realm. We’ll be heroes.”

Killian can imagine a world without starvation, without pain, without suffering. He can imagine sailing his own ship, being his own man, doing as he pleases. He can be a man who would make his brother proud.

But is it too good to be true? “Why offer this to me? Why not just kill me, or worse, feed me to your she-devil over there?” Killian demands.

The King shrugs. “You and I …we are a lot alike, Jones. We fight for ourselves, we watch and wait for an opportunity. We don’t throw our lives away for silly things like love or vengeance.” 

“What would I have to do for you?” he says carefully.

“No!” cries Swan. “I won’t let you! I won’t go back!” It’s a plea, a _ helpless _ plea.

“Leave me here with them. Go back to your room, and when I send someone to get you, I’ll have you on a mission to retrieve the dagger, it’ll make you a hero,” the King makes it sound so simple.

Killian stands, picking up his sword off the ground. He twists it back and forth, watching it shine.

“Good choice, Captain Jones. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone who’ll help you get over Milah.”

Killian fights to keep his face neutral.  _ Did he just say… _

“From what I gather, she was just like my sister-in-law, Elsa, running away from her problems. If she really cared about you, she wouldn’t have –“

It feels like something inside Killian is stretching, the same thing that has been pulling and growing since he was ten years old.

He tightens his grip on the weapon, and tries to push the feeling down, to keep the anger from boiling over. As long as it keeps stretching, everything will be ok. As long as it doesn’t snap.

_ “Stop it. No! It’s a lie!”  _ Swan is screaming, lost in her own head.

“I’ve never found a woman worth giving up your dreams for. They’re all small minded, silly –“

“Please. He can’t know! No one can know. They can’t. I won’t let them!” Emma is still screaming.

“ – and stupid. All they want is romance. They don’t understand what is really worth fighting for.”

“ _ Get out of my head!”  _ Swan is crying, begging. King Hans looks over, completely unperturbed by her misery, maybe even enjoying it.  Enjoying Swan,  _ his  _ Swan’s terror.

It snaps.

Killian pulls his weapon from his side before his mind comprehends the repercussions.

_ A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. _

He just wants the sounds in his head to stop, wants Swan to stop hurting.

He jabs his sword into the King’s chest.

“Don’t you dare talk about Milah,” he growls, pulling the blade out with a sickening squelch. “Or Swan.” He stabs again. “Or anyone.” Stab. “All you care about is hurting people you don’t understand!” Stab. “That’s wrong! You hurt people for your own bloody amusement!” Stab. Never, ever compare me to you again. I am not like you!” Stab. 

King Hans will certainly not make that comparison again. Or say anything, for that matter. Killian knows by the blood pouring from his chest and the lolling of his head that the King is dead. 

But Killian isn’t done. He tears the jeweled dagger, the Vorpal Blade, from the dead monarch’s grasp, and turns to the Jabberwocky.

“Get your bloody hands off her!” he orders. The Jabberwocky backs away instantly.

But that doesn’t mean she has to play nice. “Oh Captain, never thought you’d commit cold-blooded murder,” she sneers. “Wasn’t that your brother’s job?”

Killian’s grip tightens on the dagger, the image of stabbing her too passes through his head. Tempting.

“Shut up,” he commands. “Now answer me. Did you put these things in my head? These lies? Because he didn’t say them. Tell me right now!”

If the memories she called forth are lies, he can live with that, can possibly get the ground beneath his feet again. Right now, he feels like he’s drowning.

“Everything I showed you was locked in that pretty head of yours,” she assures him. “Perhaps you don’t know your own mind as well as you think.”

He really wants to stab her, cut her throat, make her feel his fear, his anger …

What is happening to him?

Killian looks down at his hands in shock and drops the blade, scrambling back several steps. He feels dizzy and terrified and sick. Really, really sick.

His hands are bloody.  _ No. No. That isn’t possible. She was only unconscious. No, he couldn’t kill someone. He couldn’t kill the boy. _

_ Brown wavy hair, grassy green clothing, swinging from vines, a smile on his face. _

_ “You have to kill him.” _

_ He walked up to the boy, blade in hand. _

_ “Or you can never leave.” _

But he killed the King. He killed a king. He is going to hang. He is going to be decapitated. He is going to die.

_ “On his 30 _ _ th _ _ birthday, your younger brother will die, and you will be free.” _

_ “Aye.” _

But does it really matter? He is going to die anyway. He will burn, his blood boiling, dark poison snaking up his veins.

“Please…” he begs the gods. “Don’t let it be true.” He can’t believe the visions. He can’t. The betrayal will kill him, both emotionally and physically. 

_ He could see the man smiling at him, looking out at the sea, ruffling his hair. “That’s Arendelle, my boy. A land rich with magic and mystery.” He laughed as his brother told him tales, glorious tales about stealing treasure from the Queen’s castle. _

“Killian! Killian, shhh. Hey, come back, come back to me,” says a soothing voice. He feels arms surrounding him. Swan is rocking him back and forth. She brings him back to the present, pulls him out of the memories drowning him. “Shhh,” she croons softly. “It’s ok. Hey, it’s ok.”

They’re on the ground, her blonde hair falling over his shaking body, his head on her shoulder. His breathing is ragged, his heart beating out of his chest. He tries to speak, but he can’t.

“What happened, Swan?” he eventually manages. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t want to, but I-I feel…”

He feels her hand on his face, running through his hair gently, stroking up and down his arm. 

“I know, Killian,” she whispers. “I know.”


	10. The Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/24/17: Now beta read by the generous notoriouscs

When she hears that King Hans is here, with a Jabberwocky no less, Emma knows she has to react fast or Killian would face some seriously dark magic.

Jabberwockies weren't like her, they weren't users of dark magic, they were made of dark magic. They fed on fear and thrived on breaking someone. Just being around one would makes you feel hopeless. Having one latch onto you would put you back in the worst moment of your life and makes you relive it over and over again. It's a torture she doesn't wish on her worst enemy.

"I thought they said you were a monster," says the guard as she finishes seeing his memories.

She holds the guard's heart in her hands, cupping it gently. Emma can feel the sick enjoyment the man gets from the thought of the Jabberwocky torturing the pirate.

_Arrogant self-centered prick._

And so she squeezes the heart, tightening her fingers as she hears the man's last gasp, watching as he falls to his knees.

"Only on the inside." The heart turns to hundreds of tiny crystals in her hands, falling from her fingers. It is beautiful, beautiful and deadly.

With another snap of her fingers, the prison cell gates fly open. They don't make enchanted cuffs like they used to. Emma steps over the dead guard.

_She has a pirate to save._

However, things don't exactly go as planned. Again. She thinks she can prevent herself from getting caught long enough to blast the Jabberwocky with dark magic. It's the creature's weakness, after all. Light magic can't touch her, but that isn't a problem for Emma.

But she doesn't expect the Jabberwocky to grab Killian in that moment. It made him scream. He looks terrified, more miserable than when Elsa took his heart. He looks entirely broken. Whatever the woman is showing him, he can't handle it.

Emma has to make the torture stop. He is too…kind to be broken, too special. Yes, she might as well admit it. The bird can't hurt her with the truth if she admits it to herself.

_The damn sailor is special._

The Jabberywocky speaks, calling him out for what he _is._

Killian Jones is not a pirate, not a captain, not anything.

Emma has grown to fancy a simple deckhand. She would laugh if the situation were different. Instead she roars in fury, because when she looks at Killian, he looks away. He is _ashamed_.

Darkness flares in her chest. She won't have him belittled, won't have whatever confidence she has managed to instill in him be crushed by cruelty. So she unleashes her anger, spelling out exactly what she thinks of the power-hungry King and his twisted pet, what she thinks of the deckhand brave enough to rescue a monster like herself.

_He deserves it._ _He deserves better than this._

Emma wishes she saw the creature grab her, sink telepathic magic into her skin, into her very soul.

Here, where magic isn't so readily available, they need physical contact with their victims. With her claws in Emma, Hans' Jabberwocky has everything she needs to troll Emma's subconscious and paralyze the Dark One with her own frail human pain. It was a dark and terrible place.

Emma screams.

_"Emma, my perfect child, you will be my ticket to destroying all my enemies."_

_It's her mother weighing down a little princess with heavy expectations. But things aren't always so bad. She has her nanny, her sweet nanny who could never hurt a fly._

_"I love you darling," the woman says between puffs of her cigar. "Don't be scared of magic, darling. It's a part of you."_

_She loves her. She wishes Cruella could be her mother instead of Snow. She wishes she could play with the puppies all day, laughing, smiling._

_"Emma, my love, do you see this dagger? The one with your name on it? When you misbehave, I have to punish you, baby," Snow croons. It's the first time Emma ever lays eyes on the weapon._

_"Now kill her," Snow orders. And Emma does. She pushes the only person she's ever loved off a cliff, stands there and watches her fall._

It was her first kill, but far from her last.

"You're a monster," the creature purrs in her ear. "You push away or kill everyone you love."

Emma shakes her head. "No! Stop it No!" That can't be true. Ingrid promised her she'd find happiness one day.

And Ingrid was right. Emma found Lily and her family. That had been good, sweet, perfect.

_"Get out of here, Emma! Don't you see what you did? You killed my father! I hate you!"_

_She didn't mean to. It was an accident, a mistake. She loves Lily, she loves her so much. She always wanted a sister, and now Lily is gone._

Tears run down her face like symbols of weakness. Signs that she is breaking. No. No. She can't break, she can't –

"I'll stop my digging, Emma, when you tell me where you hid that pretty little dagger," the Jabberwocky whispers.

Emma's eyes snap open. No. She won't. She has to fight. She has to.

_"Emma, come sit at the table. Come practice piano. Come practice your magic." She was ordered to perform endless tasks under the power of that terrible weapon. For 18 years, she was on puppet strings, forced to smile, to go along with Mother. She hated it. It fed the darkness, fed it so much._

_Was it any surprise she sold away her immortality for some freedom_?

"I won't let you find it," she pleads. "I won't go back." She feels the creature digging, digging through her thoughts for her most closely kept secret. She can't let her know, can't let her find –

_"Home is a place that once you leave, you just miss it."_

Emma's eyes widen. Too bad her deepest secret isn't the location of the dagger.

"Oh Emma, trying to keep your first love a secret from me? Naughty, naughty," the creature scolds.

"No! Stop it! It's a lie," Emma begs, her body convulsing as she tries to free herself.

No one can know. Especially the King who hates magic. He can't find out they don't need a silly dagger if they find –

_"Do you want to see him?" She does, she really does. She holds him in her arms, holds him as close as she can._

_"Hey kid," she greets. "Took you long enough to get here."_

She feel's the Jabberwocky's satisfaction.

_"I'll look after you. After all, I'm your mom."_

She can't tell him! The woman has to keep Emma's secret.

_"Please! He can't know! No one can know. I won't let them."_

She feels weak as the creature searches through her mind to find the little tiny thing Emma had held all those years ago. She feels helpless, knows it's only a matter of time before –

"Get out of my head!" she screeches.

The first thing Emma is aware of outside of the battle in her own head is a gasp, then the unmistakable sound of a sword entering soft tissue. (She heard the sound enough times growing up that she can pinpoint it in her sleep.)

The Jabberwocky still has a grip on her, trying one more time to find the location of Emma's son.

"Please, please, take him. I need to know he has a family. Take my son and raise him. I don't have anyone else to turn to."

"Get your bloody hands off her!" Killian shouts, and the Jabberwocky releases Emma from her dark grip. , All at once, she can see, she can breathe. She stands on shaky legs. Emma is about to slay the beast, Killian's mercy be damned.

"Oh Captain, never thought you'd commit cold-blooded murder," the Jabberwocky sneers. "Wasn't that your brother's job?"

Emma looks over to him, shocked by the blood tie-dying his shirt. She glances at the dead king and back to Killian.

His eyes are like fire. She's never seen him so angry.

"Shut up," he growls.

Looking at him, it's easy to forget the soft-spoken deckhand who values forgiveness and compassion.

"Now answer me. Did you put these things in my head? These lies?" he seethes. "Because he didn't say them. Tell me right now!"

Emma doesn't know whom he heard in his head, what unnerved him this much, but she wants to know, wants to understand him.

"Everything I showed you was locked in that pretty head of yours," the Jabberwocky assures him. "Perhaps you don't know your own mind as well as you think."

Seeing the murderous look in his eyes, Emma swears he is about to kill the woman. If he tries, Emma is prepared to stop him, to take his blade from him. She doesn't want to see his heart and mind darkened any further. He won't be able to handle it.

But it doesn't come to that, as the fire in his eyes dies and is replaced with dawning horror.

He looks down at his hands, mumbling incoherently. Racked by a violent tremble, he lets his sword fall to the ground. No longer furious, he looks lost. His knees buckle, and Emma is by his side in an instant, catching him as he falls.

"Please…don't let it be true," he begs, eyes unfocused. Now he's hyperventilating, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Emma eases him onto the ground, keeping a tight hold on him, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

"Killian, Killian, shhh…" she murmurs. "Hey, come back. Come back to me."

His head falls to her shoulder, and her hands find their way to his hair, running through it gently, slowly calming him.

"It's ok," she croons. "Hey, it's ok."

"What's happened, Swan?" he gasps. "I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't want to, but I-I feel…"

_Scared, angry, confused, hurt, broken, betrayed._

At least, that's how she feels for him.

"I know, Killian," she whispers. "I know."

She runs her hands over his face, whispering a sleeping spell into his ear. He needs it right now. He needs some peace, some dreamless rest. Emma watches his face lose its tension, eyes fluttering shut.

"You have it bad, Dark One," the Jabberwocky sneers. "Too bad he doesn't feel the same way."

Emma puts her arms around him protectively, daring the creature to try something again.

"Stay away," she warns. "Or I _will_ kill you."

The Jabberwocky laughs. "I don't need to. I've seen inside that head of his, and let me tell you, it's a mess in there."

Emma feels him stir in his sleep, weakly kicking his foot, clenching his hand into a fist. She runs her hand up and down his arm, and he relaxes.

"He's still in love with _her_ , his first love," the creature continues. "He'll never love you."

_Milah._

Emma lifts him off her, pulling off her cloak to rest under his head.

"What do you know about love?" she challenges. Emma doesn't love Killian. But she does care about him. It took hearing him in pain, seeing him look so lost and alone for her to realize. Perhaps she can learn to let go of her first love. Perhaps she can remember what it was like before…

"It's weakness, a weakness I exploit," hisses the clairvoyant. "And you will lose him. You will lose him the second you think that you're anything but what you are." The Jabberwocky picks up the Vorpal Blade from the ground and slips it into her coat pocket. "A villain."

And then she is gone.

Emma looks down at the sleeping sailor. "When we get to the port, I'll tell you, ok? I'll tell you I don't want to part ways. We understand each other, you and I." She runs her hands soothingly through his hair. "Right now you're scared and alone. Right now whatever that creature showed you is going to hurt, and hurt like hell. My magic heals my mind faster, but you, you're going to need time to heal."

He stirs again, grasping for her hand. She lets him hold onto her for a moment, liking the feeling of being needed, of being capable of providing comfort.

"Let me protect you, ok? Just sleep, sailor. Everything is going to be ok." She waves her hand over Killian, vanishing him in a puff of black smoke.

She stands, glancing at the dead body of the King, Killian's sword still in his chest. She smiles. He put it in the perfect place – any lower and the damn King may have had a chance. Emma pulls the blade out of the corpse and runs two fingers down its sticky surface. She approaches the richly paneled wall. It's a shame to ruin such a beautiful room

" _The Dark Swan was here_ ," she paints in royal blood.

They can't kill her after all. They can't even catch her. The worst that will happen is an international incident for her dear mummy.

Oops.

Emma turns down the long hall of the dungeon, strolling past the guard she killed Elsa is somewhere in this cursed castle. She just has to find her, simple as that.

It isn't long before she hears the Ice Queen herself, yelling loudly as usual. Elsa has two modes: quiet and deadly or loud and annoying.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I didn't know," Elsa is wailing.

Emma tenses. Elsa never cries. Emma is convinced the Queen's heart had completely frozen over. Emma stays hidden, wondering of there is another Jabberwocky on the loose. That's just what she needs right now.

"Please forgive me, Anna. I didn't know. If I did, I would have come back. I would have saved you!"

Emma steps forward, hands at the ready to combat whatever foe she's about to meet. Instead, she comes face-to-face with a very unsettling sight, but not a dangerous one.

Ingrid stands over Elsa, rubbing a hand over her back, trying to sooth her. The Ice Queen is sobbing helplessly with her arms around an ice statue. "Anna."

Emma swallows. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happened. Elsa found her sister, whom she had sworn vengeance on for _years_. Elsa had been hurt and angry that Anna never came after her, assuming that Anna stopped caring because she saw her as a monster. Elsa had been outraged by the very thought of her own sister implementing anti-magic policies as her husband's side.

But Anna is gone, innocent of everything that Elsa imagined.

"Elsa?" Emma whispers. "Are you and Ingrid alright?"

Elsa stops sobbing for a moment. "No. No, I'm not. My sister is dead. I killed her! I killed her all those years ago, and I didn't even know it."

Emma unseals the prison cell and steps inside. She approaches the statue of Anna, gently placing her hand on her cold surface.

"No! Please Emma, please! Don't hurt her! She's my sister," Elsa begs, tears rolling down her face.

Ingrid places a hand on Elsa's shoulder, keeping her from grabbing Emma's hand.

"Let Emma try. Her magic is different from ours. Maybe she has a chance?" Ingrid said with pleading eyes. "Will you help us?"

Emma takes a deep breath. "I don't owe you anything." she decides. "But no one deserves to lose a sister or brother. The bond between siblings is important." She lets her dark magic sink into the ice spell, feeling for exactly how deep the ice goes. "It's special."

 _A spark!_ She finds a single spark of life, deep underneath the cold.

"She's alive, Elsa," Emma announces, shocked. "But we don't have much time. Let's take her with us and see what we can do about reviving her, alright?"

Elsa nods, hand touching Anna's frozen face. "You hear that, Anna? I'm going to help you. You'll be alright. I'll never shut you out again."

Emma hopes Elsa and Ingrid will follow along and not ask about the rush. She isn't sure what the deposed royals would think about leaving their country without a ruler.

Unfortunately, Ingrid can always see through Emma's avoidance tactics. "Emma, what aren't you telling us? Why is there a rush? Surely your plan worked."

The comment draws Elsa's attention from her sister's form. Her blue eyes narrow. "Where's the sailor?"

Emma clenches her fists involuntarily.

_"What's happening, Swan? I didn't mean to kill him, I didn't want to, but I –"_

Emma releases the tension in her body, regains her nonchalance. "He's back on the ship," she says simply. "We had a little change in plans." She can see Ingrid eyeing her. The woman might not know the whole story, but she can tell that something had shaken her former protégé. Emma has always hated Ingrid's ability to see right through her.

Thankfully Ingrid doesn't press her. A simple shrinking spell gets Anna down to hand-held size, much easier to sneak out of the place. Elsa cups her in her hand, gently cradling her like an icy egg.

Emma doesn't tell them as they hear yells from the guards, nor as they easily dispatch the lot. She waits until they are safely back on the ship to let them in on the real reason the guards were attacking without mercy, the reason they were fighting not to capture, but to kill.

"You WHAT?"

"Emma…"

Emma just shrugs. "He was in the way, so I killed him," she says as if it's a perfectly logical explanation. At least she's telling them the important part. The fewer people who know what really happened, the better. Especially given their reactions.

"Do you know what you've done? Hans was a terrible king, but at least he was keeping the neighboring kingdoms in check. With him gone and no heirs, Arendelle will be left without a king. This means war and anarchy for my kingdom!" Elsa shouts. In case Emma isn't getting the message, Elsa shoots a bolt of ice at her head.

Emma dodges it and sends a wave of dark magic right back. "He was trying to see inside my head! He was trying to find the dagger!" she shouts back. "That damn Jabberwocky knows too much as it is. I couldn't let him know about –"

Emma glances at Ingrid. "It doesn't matter why I did it. It's done. There's no turning back now. Besides, you've wanted him dead for years."

"But I never did it!" Elsa counters. "Because even though I hate him, hate what he's done to my kingdom, I care more about my home than my hate."

Ingrid smiles putting a hand on her niece's shoulder. "You've come a long way, Elsa."

Emma crosses her arms, turning away as Elsa rests her hand on top of her aunt's. Mushy family scenes make Emma sick.

"I knew you could let go of your hate," Ingrid says. "I believe that's the first step to curing Anna."

Emma looks at Ingrid, really looks at her for the first time in years. Her ashy blonde hair is long, identical to Elsa's. Her gown is silver and reflective like ice. She hasn't aged noticeably since Emma was a teenager, one of the side effects of Ingrid's light magic.

"Emma, you've changed too," Ingrid adds. "Elsa tells me you befriended the owner of this ship?"

Emma flinches as she remembers said "owner" of the ship. "Oh no! I forgot all about him!" She rushes to the captain's quarters where she poofed him to sleep. She enters quietly and closes the door behind her. She sits on the edge of the bed, taking in his still form.

"Hey beautiful," Killian rasps. "Come to check on me, Swan?"

So he is awake. She can't help but chuckle at his flirting. "Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling, Killian?" she askes.

He pulls himself up to lean against the hull. "I've been better. My head is killing me. I can hardly remember, did we – did we rescue Elsa and her aunt?"

Emma hesitates, wondering how much she should tell him.

"Yes, we saved them. You…uh, took a nasty hit to the head," she lies. "I figured it would be best to let you sleep it off."

Killian grins. "For all your dark magic, has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar? For one thing, that's a terrible way to deal with a head injury."

She chuckles. "Yup, all the time." Emma reaches out to take his hand. "But you were injured, that's not a lie. I'd prefer we not talk about the rest of it. Trust me, ok? I know that may be hard, considering I'm not exactly the most trustworthy person, but –"

"I trust you Swan," he interrupts. "Especially since I'm…starting to remember." He grips his head with his free hand, letting out a gasp.

"Hey, Killian, hey, it's ok." The last thing she needs is for him to start panicking again.

"I killed him, Swan," he mutters between shivers. "He wasn't even armed."

She shakes her head. "He was commanding the Jabberwocky. He was hurting me! You did what you had to do." She slides next to him on the bed, pulling him close.

"Why? Why did I have to? Why could I kill him and not – Why could I fight him and not –"

He's talking nonsense, shaking his head, waving his hands.

"Emma, the creature said there was magic…in my head. What does that mean?"

She focuses her magic, seeing if she can sense anything, but she can't. She's never detected any sort of magic from Killian.

"It showed me things that aren't true, things that can't be true," he continues. "It drove me to…do what I did. It was just too much…"

She places her hand on his face. "What was it, Killian? You can tell me. Perhaps talking about it will help?"

He seems reluctant, so she goes first.

"I saw the first time I killed someone," she admits slowly. "My nanny, her name was Cruella, she was so kind and loving to me."

He meets her gaze.

"I told you about the dagger that controls me, right? Well, when I was five, maybe six, I said something I shouldn't have to my mother. She took out the dagger and made me…push Cruella over the cliff we were playing on. She made me watch as she fell. That's when I realized how much I hated my mother, when I realized that she didn't care about me, that she wanted to make my heart as dark as hers."

Killian swallows thickly. "I'm sorry, Swan. I'm sorry you've been through so much." He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes tightly closed.

"It's Emma," she whispers. "My name is Emma."

Her name is something of a prize, only given to those who earn it, who earn her trust. No one has gotten her name in a very long time. Not even the hunter whose leather cord she refused to part with knew her true name.

"Emma," he breathes.

She likes how it sounds when he says it.

"Emma Swan. Thank you, I know what this means to you." He pauses, preparing himself to share something equally important.

"When I was small, my father died, killed by royal guards for standing against them. They were hurting an innocent woman, and he stopped them, so they killed him," he tells her. "My mother had long since abandoned our family. I was alone after my father's death, but my brother, Liam, found me and took me aboard his ship, the Jolly Roger. He took care of me, promised that one day I could be the captain of my own pirate ship, this ship to be exact."

Killian is smiling. She can see how much he love his brother.

"That creature showed me scenes that…that are impossible. It showed me terrible lies." He breathed. "But I need to know if they're true. That's my request, Swan."

Emma chuckles that he still remembers her promise. "To find out if your brother lied to you? If he's as dead as you said, I don't see how my magic will help you."

That makes Killian smirk. "Liam is gone, but not dead. I want you to help me find him."


	11. Family Drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/7/17: Betad by the patient notoriouscs

 

 

Killian leads Emma out of the cabin and to the helm after their heart-to-heart. The navigator in him knows it’s best to set the course quickly. It’s dangerous to leave a ship dead in the water, even when you’re not wanted for regicide. 

“The Jewel is the fastest ship in the realm,” he tells Swan as they walk. “We should be out of Arendelle in no time,” he says proudly. This marvel of a ship will keep them from being caught.

“But we’re not leaving just yet,” says a voice as they approach the helm. “Not until we rescue Anna.” Elsa is glaring daggers at Emma. Killian has never seen her so angry. While always appearing at odds, Killian likened their previous aggression to sibling rivalry. This is something else. Elsa is blocking them from the helm. Killian doesn’t dare tell her to move.

Emma’s form goes rigid. “That isn’t part of the deal,” she hisses. “I got your family back. Now leave me alone to get back to mine.” 

Someone places a hand on Killian’s shoulder from behind him. He flinches, pulling away. 

“Sorry sweetie, didn’t mean to cause you a fright.” 

He doesn’t like being snuck up on. It’s pretty hard to do on this ship. He’s usually more attuned to her creaks. Clearly the stress is getting to him. 

“And Elsa’s right, Emma. We need to find a cure for Anna’s curse as soon as possible.”

Anna? He thought they were rescuing Ingrid. He looks at the woman who had surprised him. Tall and confident, he senses no darkness from her, not like what lives in Emma or Elsa. She has blonde hair pulled up in a bun and a sort of cold face.

“Are you Ingrid?” he asks.

She nods, holding her white-gloved hand out to him. “And I assume you’re Captain Jones?”

Killian chuckles, taking her hand. “Just Killian is fine, milady.” 

Emma snorts.

“I think I’ve done enough to help, what more do you want me to do?” Emma asks. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe either of you a damn thing.”

Killian can tell he’s about to be in the middle of a fierce fight. He just hopes the sorceresses stick to words rather than magic.

“So help me, Emma! I’ll tell everyone that nasty little secret of yours!” Elsa roars _._

“I’ll kill you before you can open your mouth, you spoiled brat!” Emma fires back.

He walks over to a crate and unrolls his enchanted map of Arendelle, watching as it glows faintly. He grimaces at what he sees.

“What are those, Killian?” Ingrid asks, joining him in leaving the lasses to work out their own business. She points to the dark shapes illuminated on the map. 

“Enemy ships, most likely coming after us,” he answers, tracing their probable paths with his finger.

“Because of Hans,” Ingrid voices flatly. She sounds neither happy nor upset.

He swallows thickly. “Because of Hans.” He isn’t sure how much the ice royals know about the King’s death. Are they angry with him? Ingrid doesn’t seem angry. She doesn’t seem anything at all. 

“The ships seem to be heading to the border between Arendelle and Misthaven,  probably to cut us off as we try to escape,” he explains. “Taking a longer route may be better for us.” He shivers as he looks up to meet the woman’s icy gaze. “On the other hand, spending more time in these waters gives the court time to mobilize a bigger fleet.” Killian knows the four of them don’t have the numbers or the expertise to survive a full-scale naval battle.

“So what do you suggest?” Ingrid asks. He looks over to where Emma and Elsa are still bickering.

“I kept my end of the deal!”

“Well now you’re keeping this one too! Help me, or so help me! You’ll see how much the cold bothers you anyway!”

Turning back to the map, he traces a few alternate paths. No matter which route they take, they will need to stop somewhere for supplies. They’re nearly out of food and drinking water. But where to stop? Somewhere safe, where Hans’ navy won’t think to look for them, but not too far out of their way… 

Killian smirks, hitting on the perfect place. He’s been wanting to return there, and it’s perfect for what they need. “Here.” He traces a path to his chosen port and then out through a much less used channel. It's rough currents ought to deter a royal fleet, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. A quick resupply, then a mad dash for the border is their best shot. By the time their pursuers realize where they went, the Jewel’s legendary speed just might get them out of Arendelle alive.

“You seem troubled,” Ingrid observes as he approaches the wheel to change their course now that Elsa and Swan’s argument had taken them to the other side of the deck. Killian pretends he didn’t hear her. 

“You doubt yourself. Why is that?” she continues. He pulls the sails into position, wondering how long it will take Emma and Elsa to stop their bickering and realize he made the decision on their course himself.

He turns to see Ingrid standing directly behind him. 

She isn’t done. “Doubt is not good to hold in your heart. It can bring you darkness and pain.” 

He finds himself backed up against the wheel with nowhere to go. 

“I’d rather you let me pass, milady,” he says, flashing an innocent smile. “What lies in my heart is my own.” 

She removes her glove slowly and casually places her fingers against his forehead. He can’t pull away.

“ _Perhaps, perhaps not_ ,” he hears the Snow Queen say, but her mouth never moves. “ _I have to protect my sisters, Emma in particular, from unknown variables. You are an unknown.”_

Killian feels his complaint die in his throat, eyes drooping. Whatever power the royal has, it’s making it incredibly hard to focus.

“ _ Relax.”  _ It feels like when the Jabberwocky was digging in his head, but gentler. Ingrid speaks more words, but he can’t quite make them out. It could be a moment or an hour before he feels the calm fade and reality return.

“Ingrid!” Emma says sharply, pulling her away from him in one massive motion. “I already made it clear to Elsa, and now I guess I have to make it clear to you,” she growls. Killian grips the side of the ship to find his ground as the world spins. “The sailor is under my protection for as long as I care to keep him.” 

He feels Emma yank him toward her and away from the railing, making him stumble. “Using magic on him without  _ my  _ permission makes me very, very angry.” 

He pulls away, determined not to appear weak, but Killian finds he is still on unsure footing. “It’s all right, Swan, I’m fine,” he assures her. “I just finished setting our course. We’re going to need to stop  for supplies.” 

Swan doesn’t seem happy about that but doesn’t argue with him. She reaches over, gripping his arm to lead him away, out of earshot of both Elsa and Ingrid.

“Listen to me, Killian. I don’t want you anywhere near Ingrid or Elsa, especially when I’m not around, understand?” she warns.  

But he doesn’t understand. While Elsa didn’t make the best first impression, he thought he had at least earned her good will by now. Ingrid, on the other hand, seems pushy...

He nods slowly anyway. “As you wish.” 

Whatever her reasons, he trusts that Emma will keep him safe. She’s proven it enough times, no matter her insistence that he’s just a tool to her. He knows Emma wants them both to get out of this situation intact.

“Emma, can I have a word?” Ingrid calls. Swan nods, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before disappearing. Once the ladies are gone, he takes up position by the helm, holding the ship steady on her course. The sooner they get to port, the sooner he might possibly get a chance to catch his breath. 

Between Ingrid poking around in his head and Elsa being Elsa, he really needed a break, and if he leaves behind an ice sorceress or two while he’s at it? Well, that’s just wishful thinking.

“ _ Aww, the sea urchin thinks this is his ship. Well I’ll tell you this now boy, this is my ship, the Jewel of the Realm. Much better name, don’t you think, men?”  _

Now that was an unpleasant memory he recalls happening. Just days after losing Liam, Killian had demanded the Captain return him to his brother. After all, the ship, named the Jolly at the time, was Liam’s. Liam had promised it to him. The Captain had been quick to show him what he truly deserved.

Elsa approaches the helm, shaking Killian out of the past. “She doesn’t love you,” Elsa cuts, fingering a piece of ice in her hands. “She’s incapable of it.” The Ice Queen is angry. He can see it in her face. But she’s also sad, oh so sad.

“Why are you –“

“Even if she can love, even if she can comprehend the feeling in that dark place she calls her heart,” Elsa looks him over. “Don’t kid yourself into thinking you’ll be the one to change her. She’ll never love a silly sailor who’s afraid of his own shadow. She’s using you, making you feel for her. It’s what she does. She’s a manipulator.”

He flinches, hoping he doesn’t give away how hurt he feels. He isn’t hoping that…he doesn’t…he just hopes that… 

_ “Do not mistake my actions for caring, Jones.” _

He doesn’t give Elsa a reply. So she gets closer, placing a finger over his heart. “The second she has what she wants, she’ll leave you for the next interesting coward she sees,” she purrs before returning her gaze to the ocean.

“I’m only telling you this because  _ I know _ . I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who can’t love you in return.” Her cool eyes turn back to him. 

Loss, he senses great loss in her. “You loved someone?” He doesn’t mean to sound as surprised as he is. Elsa seems too cold-hearted for such emotion. He worries for a moment if he’s insulted her.

Elsa snorts in laughter. Guess not. “You’re funny. It was before I was Elsa the Ice Queen, freezer of souls,” she snickers. “He promised he’d come back for me, so I waited and waited for him. He promised he’d be back before my coronation. I was so angry at him for breaking his promise that I took it out on my sister.” She holds up the piece of ice in her hand. “Jones, meet my sister, Anna.”

Killian blinks in surprise.  _ That piece of ice is her sister? _

No wonder Elsa’s in such of a hurry to help her. She could break or melt or be lost at any moment. “Only true love’s kiss or an act of true love can set her free,” Elsa says mournfully. “But her love is gone, and my heart…I can’t love anyone or anything anymore. I froze it solid to keep from hurting so much.”

She turns away from him, taking a shaky breath. “I see now why Emma keeps you around. You don’t judge us as much as you should. Why is that?” 

He doesn’t reply at first. He has to pick his words quite carefully.

“I’m not as unfamiliar with magic as it may seem,” he settles on. “But enough about me. Do you have an idea? A way to free Anna?”

Now it’s Elsa’s turn to hesitate. “Did you see her do it?” she asks in deflection. “Kill Hans?”

Killian’s head snaps up.  _ What? _

“She killed him, stabbed him through the heart,” Elsa explains bitterly. “ _ That’s _ why we’re in this situation. If we had just rescued Ingrid and taken Anna, no one would think twice about pursuing us. It’s Emma’s fault that we’re being pursued, her fault that my kingdom is going to go down in flames, her fault that –“

Elsa stops herself.

“Her fault that what, lass?” Killian presses. It’s obvious that the last item means the most to her. He may as well know what he cost her, add another to the endless reasons he should feel guilty.

“Anna loved him. They were husband and wife. True love’s kiss can undo even the most powerful ice magic.” Elsa is caressing the statue once more. “It’s her fault that my sister may be a statue forever. Her fault I may never get to tell Anna how sorry I am.”

Killian wants to scream. He wants to tell Elsa that he’s the one who killed Hans and doomed her sister. It’s his fault, his fault… He opens his mouth to confess his sins to the Queen when they are interrupted.

“Elsa!” Ingrid calls. “Stop bothering the poor sailor and show me where I can rest my tired body, preferably a bed not made of ice, hmm?” Elsa perks up instantly, pulling her aunt below deck. 

Killian returns his gaze to Emma, who is standing in her black leather, hair pulled back rather than flowing freely the way it had before Ingrid’s arrival. She’s back to guarded, full emotional armor just as Elsa foretold.

***

“So what port are we stopping in, and what are we doing about the ships tailing us?” Emma asks him, ready to focus on the logistics now that she and Elsa are done fighting. For the moment, at least..

He can’t suppress his grin. Finally something he’s delighted about. “Geneva,” he replies.

“Wise choice, Killian” Ingrid replies. He shifts under Ingrid’s gaze. She makes him uncomfortable.

“What’s so special about this place?” Elsa whines.

“There’s a famous wizard in town, known to be able to cure any curse,” Ingrid explains. Killian can see Elsa brighten. Perhaps if Anna is thawed, a bit of Killian’s guilt will melt too. 

They arrive in Geneva early the next day and agree to split up, then reconvene on the ship by noon. With Arendelle’s navy in pursuit, this is a business trip, not a sightseeing stop.

“I also have a friend here,” Killian tells the women, noting the surprised look on Emma’s face. “I’d like to go see him by myself, if you don’t mind.” He directs the question at Emma in particular. 

She gives him a slight nod. “Don’t let me stop your social life,” Emma mutters darkly. “I’ll go by myself to get the supplies we need.”

He can’t help but feel like he’s said something wrong.


	12. The Makings of a Monster

 

 “A word Emma?” Ingrid asked. It wasn’t a question. She would usually blow her off, but Ingrid had tunnel vision when it came to her family, and sure she liked to pretend that Emma was a part of it, but they all knew that she wasn’t. Emma wasn’t blood. So whatever had Ingrid bothered now, she wouldn't let it go until Emma heard it out.

She waited until they were out of Killian’s earshot before voicing her concern “Someone’s been in his head.” Ingrid told her, glancing at him suspiciously. Emma didn’t like her looking at him like that. Emma was still livid after seeing her have his hands on him, seeing her use magic on him. He was _her_ Sailor, no one else’s.

“We encountered a jabberwocky,” She replied, getting in between. “It did some damage, he doesn’t have the magic to bounce back like we do.” It was why he seemed different, less kind hearted, angrier, hurt. Killian was oh so hurt.

Ingrid smiled condescendingly. “Something else.” She insisted. “I understand he saved you, but you need to be wary, he may be compromised.”

Don’t ask her why, but Emma was furious by this, furious that Ingrid dared to doubt her sailor. It was like she was telling Emma that it was crazy to think that anyone could care about her. He had to be plotting something.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” She spat. “And keep your grubby hands off Jones.”

Ingrid nodded. “Ok. I will.” She promised. “But heed my warning, from what I gather from Elsa’s tale, you two…you are from vastly different worlds.”

Nothing new there.

 “If you think he could ever understand you, you’re wrong. You will never fit into his world, nor him in yours. He’s afraid of you.”

Emma laughed. “Why should I listen to you?” She asked. “You tried to kill me then abandoned me.” She spat. “You lost the right to give me any sort of advice.”

And she walked off.

What did Ingrid know about love anyway? Just as much as the Jabberwocky that’s for sure. Whatever she had, or could have with Killian, it was none of her business.

* * *

 

“So what port are we stopping in?” She asked that next day. She was looking forward to masking her identity, run around, see Killian in his natural habitat. As a deckhand, he was accustomed to ports, to sailors, to restocking ships, it was his home. She could see it in the way he smiled, a real smile, the way he stood, confident. She wanted to see this side to him, see exactly who Killian Jones is.

“I also have a friend at this port.” Killian said. She looked at him in surprise. He had never mentioned friends, although he was friendly enough, she’d like to meet his friends. Friends were a good indication for what type of man he was. “I’d like to separate and see him by myself if you don’t mind.” He was looking at her, asking permission.

_“He’s afraid of you.”_

Wasn’t she stupid, thinking, even for a second that things could be normal, she wasn’t normal, she was a villain and he was a deckhand. Ingrid was right that they belonged to different worlds, just because she was inviting him into hers, didn’t mean he had to do the same, and didn’t mean he even wanted to.

“Don’t let me stop your social life.” She muttered, turning away from him. “I’ll go by myself to get supplies.”

She didn’t want to see his happiness that he could get away from her for a couple hours, nor let him see how hurt she was that he didn’t want her along for the trip.

_“He may be compromised.”_

Unless Ingrid was right and Killian wasn’t the cowardly deckhand who had magically transformed into this…brave sailor, maybe it was a trick of her mother’s to find the dagger? To hurt Emma yet again? Perhaps this was a rendezvous for whoever he was working for?

It didn’t take her superpower to see through that lie.

Emma just wanted an excuse to validate her current activity, following Killian around the port. She used magic to keep herself hidden, seeing him talk to some of the other sailors, he laughed slightly, rubbing behind his ear when he got nervous. He moved along to the tavern. Killian smiled at some of the bar maiden’s, (a little too much for her liking) he was asking them something.

He had that serious look on his face. He was fishing for information, who better to tell him than the woman supplying the alcohol to the men of the town? He slipped a piece of gold to a dark haired girl, giving her a scandalous wink.

When she first met him, Killian didn’t curse, or apologized when he was in her presence. The Killian she met would have never done that, never even spoken to the maidens. What had changed? Had she been this much of an influence?

There was no time to think on this as Killian took off fast paced out of the tavern and down the street. She took off after him, wondering what had prompted this. He reached a door farther from the docks than she would have expected. He knocked on the door feverously.

Emma held her breath in anticipation as the door opened.

It was a woman.

_Should have known that he picked this place because he had a little something on the side._ She thought bitterly, seeing the woman’s blonde curls and inner sweetness. She embraced Killian and he her. They spoke openly, friendly, he looked happy, more animated than he’d ever been in her presence.

She invited him into her home. It didn’t take much imagination to imagine what was about to transpire between him and that tramp.

Emma could practically see her arms in his dark hair, his lips on hers, hands roaming.

She had half a mind to rush in and snap the little thing’s neck, pull him out by his heart.

_“If I want to take your heart, and have my wicked way with you, than I will.”_

She had warned him after all. It was the very nature of her parents’ relationship, after her mother’s childhood love had died, she had tracked down his twin, stolen his heart because she wanted to pretend, in the dead of night, her lover still breathed.

Emma was still debating said action when something clamped their hand on her wrist.

“Witch! Witch!” A voice shouted angrily. She pulled away out of instinct. _You just messed with the wrong girl buddy._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She retorted backing away. Emma turned, wanting to flee, come back later to stake her claim. He was her sailor and no tramp was going to change that.

“Don’t try and deny it!” The man retorted. “Your friends sold you out.” She blinked back, coming back to reality to understand what these people were saying to her. Someone told the town that she had magic? She had been watching Kilian the entire time! Who could-

_Elsa. She’d roast her later._

She looked around, people were staring. Emma smirked. “Who needs enemies when you have friends like that?” She said with a shrug. It was about time to get out of here. She called up on her magic, preparing to poof right out of there-

Nothing happened. She gazed at her wrist, from where the man had grabbed her, a piece of leather remained; it felt tight against her skin.

“Those are anti-magic cuffs, given to us by the wizard.” The man explained, pulling his sword, pointing it at her. “Prepare to die.” The man lunged, she dodged, trying to pry it off, but it didn’t budge.

_Shoot._

The man lunged again, catching her on the side, bright red blood splattered on the cobblestones. The man obviously knew what he was doing. She was in trouble. She looked around for an escape attempt, a weapon, anything.

People were starting to gather, two more appeared behind her, blocking off her only escape route.

The man who had stuck the cuff to her wrist stepped forward, slamming the blunt side of his blade against her head. “You can’t get away.” He sneered as she collapsed onto her knees. He delivered another kick to her ribs. Emma’s instincts flared as she grabbed him foot as he went in for a second blow.

“I’m not aiming to go anywhere swine.” She hissed, pulling him off his feet. She lunged for his blade. Two other villagers grabbed onto her arms, pulling her back. The man got back to his feet. He raised his blade, Emma closed her eyes.

_The Dark One was going to die to this peasant._

The sound of metal catching metal sounded.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing attacking _my_ sorceress?” Demanded a voice. She knew that voice.

Killian.

She suppressed her happiness as she noticed the way his vest was buttoned incorrectly, jacket tossed on without being smoothed down like he generally preferred. She didn’t want to know how far he had gotten with the blonde, how sweet her kisses were, how much he preferred to kiss her rather then-

“Your sorceress?” The man demanded.

“The law states that no magical being is allowed to freely walk the region, it does not however say that one may attack another's. This one is bound to me and so it makes her mine.” He declared with a rare bought of possessiveness. Emma suppressed a growl.

_She was no ones._

“Prove it.” The man demanded. “Make her do something.”

_If he thinks I’m just going to play along-_

She saw a flare of anger rush through him, the first bit may have been an act, but this was none. Killian struck out against him, disarming him with a flick of his wrist.

“Prove it? Do I need to prove to you which house my gold pays for? Prove which woman I chose to bed?” He dared. “Do you dare to doubt my honor to ask me if I can make her jump and dance for your amusement?” He placed the edge of the blade against the man’s neck, making him stumble to the ground. “Perhaps I should prove to you whether or not I am strong enough to cut your throat like an animal.”

Damn.

The man stood back up, hands raised in defeat.

“My apologies.” He stuttered before fleeing. Killian turned his dark gaze to the men holding her.

“Release her before I decide to have her tear out your hearts and feed them to you, trust me, she’d enjoy it” He growled.

Deciding to have her own fun, she batted her eyes and giggled darkly. “Awe, you always get to have all the fun!” They dropped her arms just as quickly, fleeing off into the town.

Killian went, gripping her shoulder, pulling her along rougher than he needed to.

“You followed me.” He grumbled.

“Having fun with your girlfriend?” She snapped. “And I didn’t need your help.”

He chuckled, leading her into the house he was currently in moments ago. But it just made her angrier. She didn’t want to meet the woman who had been moments from being with Killian, she wanted him to stop leading her inside, to stop whatever this was between them. If he didn’t feel anything for her, he should just man up and tell her already!

 “Oh Swan, how much you don’t know.” He remarked, pulling the cuff from her wrist. She pulled away, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Get your hands off me!” She hissed. “I know enough, I followed you!”

She expected an angry retort, but didn’t get one, instead saw him suck in a pained gasp, hands clutching his side. “Damn it Swan.” He cursed, hunched over. “When will you realize that all I’m trying to do is protect you?”

He nearly fell, but Emma went to catch him, supporting him to get to the couch. Her simple movement should not have caused that much damage. “I don’t need protection.” She said plainly. 

The blonde came around the corner.

“Oh! You got her, that’s good Killian.” She said sweetly, but then she spotted Killian. “It reopened again didn’t it?” She demanded. The woman looked to Emma.

“Here, lay him down, I’ll go get Victor.”

Emma did what she was asked, despite Kilian’s complaints. “What reopened?” She asked him once he was settled. “I didn’t see anyone get you with their sword, was it Elsa after you knocked me out? I’ll-“

Killian shook his head, eyes shut clenching in pain. “Before…before I came to get you, perhaps a day or so, I was injured. I haven’t exactly been on bed rest since then.” He admitted.

“So it’s been bothering you since? Why didn’t you tell me! I wouldn’t have been so rough when we fought!” She said outraged. “Has it opened up a lot?”

Killian shook his head. “Just once after the fight with the guard…and again the morning after we sparred…”

  Emma could feel her heart tighten with guilt.

“I’m sorry, I…I didn’t know.” She managed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He tried to reply, but was interrupted. “Because he’s a stubborn arse.” Came a curt reply. The blonde woman came down followed by a thin man slightly taller than her, with ashy brown hair. He wore a long white coat around him. Emma moved back as he pulled up a chair near the wound.

“Now, next time I tell you to wait until I finish will you are you going to listen?” The man asked him with a groan of exasperation.

Killian smiled sheepishly. “Am I going to live?”

Emma watched in silence as he pulled up the vest, revealing a nasty cut from under Killian’s ribs, it looked slightly healed but bleeding heavily. She could see how painful it was from Killian’s face.

“Lizzie, get the rum. He’s going to want to be hammered.”

Killian struggled under the man’s grip.

“No. I’m fine, just do it already.” He insisted.

“I know you hate the feeling, but last time I went ahead you kept moving.” The man argued back. Emma decided that this was the perfect opportunity to step in.

“Here, let me.” She said, placing a hand on his chest. It would just take a simple spell to take away his pain so the healer can work. Her fingers glowed faintly

“Swan-“ but his complaint died as her spell spread about. “Never mind” He murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

The man nodded a thank you and began stitching up the injury. Emma watched his work, it was much more skilled than she had seen before.

“Oh your bleeding too!” The blonde exclaimed, taking her hands. “Come, I’ll patch you up while Victor finishes with Killian.”

 She was helpless under the woman's insistence, leading her into another room. “Now sweetie, come, take off your coat so I can see what those men did to you.” She continued. Emma hesitated.

“Who are you? Who is he?”

The woman laughed. “Whoops! Where are my manners? My name’s Elizabeth.” She introduced. “Elizabeth Whale.” She shook the woman’s hand. “My husband over there is a doctor, but that doesn’t mean anything to you here.” She laughed.

“I know what that means.” Emma said softly. “I’ve been there.” Elizabeth’s eyes went wide briefly before she nodded in understanding. A silent understanding passing between them.  

 “Wait, you said you and Victor are married, does that mean you and Killian are not-“

The woman looked at her blankly.  

Didn’t she feel like an idiot. She just was glad that this Elizabeth seemed too sweet to understand what she was asking.

She found herself losing her cloak and vest, pulling up her blouse to reveal the deep red wound on her skin. The first she’d ever seen, most of the time, her wounds healed in a matter of minutes, but this one wasn’t.

Emma hissed when Elizabeth started patch up the wound, pulling away at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Stay still!” She snapped. “You’re worse than Killian.” She said with a sigh.

_Killian?_

“How do you two know each other? Killian I mean?” Emma asked as she kept her body still when the woman tried again to patch up the injury.

“Killian’s brother helped my husband when we were in…a peculiar situation.” She admitted. “After Liam’s death, Victor promised to watch out for Killian. He deals with all of Killian’s ‘falls’.” She muttered irritated, the stitches started getting sharper as she went, obviously unhappy about something.

“Falls?” Emma asked.

“I’m a kind person Miss Swan.” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I would never wish harm on anyone. The Captain however, he I wouldn’t spit on if he was on fire.” She seethed. “Killian deserves better.”

Now that had her curious. Killian spoke of The Captain the first day or so, about how he needed to get back so the Captain wouldn’t be angry.

“What did the Captain-“

The blonde shook her head, she wasn’t going to elaborate. “You have a broken rib right here.” Elizabeth explained touching her chest, making Emma gasp. “Killian said you have magic, shouldn’t it be healing already?" she asked.

Emma didn’t like it when people asked about her magic, she was going to say something dramatic when she saw nothing but good intention-ed curiosity in her gaze.

“Whenever my magic is contained, it takes a while for it to readjust. It might be hours before it is back to full strength.” She admitted.

“Do you care for him?” She asked next, surprising her.

“What?” Blue eyes narrowed.

“Killian. He’s like a brother to us, and he’s had a very bad bit of luck with woman.” She explained. “I don’t want him hurt again.”

She avoided her look. “I care for Killian, but he isn’t interested. We’re too different to be anything more than…” Friends? Acquaintances? “What we are.”

Apparently Emma couldn’t get her half-truth over on the curly haired woman.

“I am no fool Miss Swan. I know devotion when I see it. I know what it’s like to care about someone so whole heartedly that you don’t think of the risks, you don’t think period. That you just need to be with them, that your heart just fits in the other’s hand.” She said softly.

“I’m not-“ Emma tried, but was cut off.

“I’m not talking about you Swan. When he thought you were in danger, Killian ran to help you, he didn’t have to, you know, but he did, he did because he cares about you.”

Emma shook her head. “He shouldn’t though. He shouldn’t. You are right to worry Mrs. Whale. I am not good for him. I am not good for anyone, I am a monster…”

A hand rested on her shoulder. “I’ve seen monsters Miss Swan, and you are not one of them.” She could feel experience glittering in her gaze, before suddenly, it stopped, she looked up, smile brightening.

“They should be finishing up right about now.”  She said waving her off. Emma proceeded around the corner slowly, hearing the tail-end of a conversation as Elizabeth started sorting through her supplies muttering a tune under her breath.

“You lied to me!” He hissed. “Does she know? Is my entire life some bloody joke to you?!” It was Killian, he was fuming mad, even under the pain reducing spell she placed.

“Keep your voice down. No she doesn’t. I did the best I could with this bad situation.” Victor’s voice said in a controlled tone.

Killian laughed darkly. “Bad situation. That’s rich coming from you, _Frankenstein._ I thought we were friends, I thought you were helping me because you saw me as family.” He said trying to get up. He locked eyes with her. He relaxed himself, but turned away from both the doctor and her.

“We should leave Killian to rest for a bit.” The man said, content with ignoring the situation.

“Dark Swan? Can I talk to you in the other room? I can check out your other injury.” She nodded politely, taking one last look at the deckhand.

 “Please, not now I’ll…” His voice broke as he tried to catch his breath, eyes pleading with her. “I’ll explain everything, I promise, just not here. Go get seen too, I’ll be here.” And she was gone.

“Come on and shut the door.” Snapped Victor. “I take it Liz sewed you up?”  Someone approached her, she tensed.

“Relax, tension isn’t good for healing.” He chuckled “Let me see.” He asked carefully as she looked him over warily.

Emma sighed, pulling up her shirt where the soon to be purple bruises would be. He pressed something cold to her skin, metal. A small metal disk attached to a shiny tube that connected to his ears. He moved it over every few seconds, telling her when to take a breath.

“Lucky there’s no internal bleeding.” He muttered darkly. “Or perhaps I should say unlucky for us.” She pulled away, yanking down her blouse.

“Great bed side manner.” She muttered. It made him smirk.

“Liz doesn’t know what you are, but I do.” He told her simply, “She always liked fairy-tales, she just always liked the Disney kind. Give me your hand.” She did, not bothering to ask what he meant.

“What were you and Jones arguing about?” She asked.

“None of your business” He shot back. “But I would have thought that you of all people would let fate take its course.”

She didn’t understand, nor did she like it.

“You’re changing him.” He said, looking over the bruise the leather cuff had made. He took poured something over it, it made Emma hiss as it hit her wrist.

Whale ignored her complaint.

“He’s acting more like Liam than even Liam.” He continued. “Contrary to Killian’s beliefs, Liam was not a good man.”

Emma remembered the utter rage she had seen in Killian after he killed Hans. He had changed quickly, in only a few days; he had made a complete personality swap. She had thought that he was getting braver, more confident and this was just the result. But maybe…maybe there was more to it than that.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked.

“Liam was not a good man, but he was strong. He was stubborn and he would never condone half of the things Killian has gone through. I don’t know if becoming like him is good in the long run, but maybe, just maybe, it’ll help him find his own path, his own bravery.”

Emma still didn’t understand, she wanted to ask more questions, but he got up and held out the door for her. The conversation was over.

Killian seemed even more mysterious than before.

He was by himself when she got there, rubbing and scratching at his tattoo, standing.

“All good?” She asked as she stood, crossing her arms. He froze looking up at her warily.

“Why did you follow me?” He asked directly. “Elizabeth isn’t here; she went out to get the supplies while we wait for the men to forget all about you.” He added sharply.

“I wanted to know who you were meeting.” Emma responded. “Why did you visit a healer without telling me?”

He looked tense. “Why? Why do you care who I visit? Did you think I’d leave you and the Ice Queens’ without a captain?” He demanded. “I told you I’d come back so I will.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Because you gave me your word right? That’s the only reason you have, your damn insistence on good form.” She muttered crossing her arms. She averted her gaze for a moment. When Emma looked back, he was closer, just a step away.

“Why did you follow me?” He said softer. She looked up at him. “Why do you keep pulling away from me, one minute you’re telling me…secrets just as I am you…the next minute you’re accusing me of being involved with my friend’s wife.”

Emma should push him away; snap something about him not deserving a single answer from her. He should have just asked her to come with; he should have trusted her to be able to behave herself with his friends.

“Why should I trust you?” She asked. He could hear the hidden meaning, the hidden question in her voice. The question that Emma herself couldn’t voice, not even to herself. “Why did you kill Hans?”

He didn’t move. “He was hurting you, I didn’t want that.”

She bit back a gasp, his blue eyes didn’t move from hers. She wanted him to; she didn’t know how alluring his eyes could be. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to stop looking at them. She dropped her arms, letting down her wall ever so slightly.

“And what exactly _do_ you want Sailor?” She dared, just like that first day. Emma expected him to avert his gaze, trip on his feet, his face to flush. She expected him to say that he wanted to find his brother, that she was a means to an end, that she was just The ‘all powerful’ Dark One.

“What do I want?” He asked, closing the distance a bit more. She could smell his leather jacket, the one she had found in one of the deep areas of the ship; it had fit his pirate persona perfectly. “What do I bloody want? Are you really asking me that?” He demanded. His anger still red hot, anger and passion mixing dangerously.

“You.” He challenged

She opened her mouth to respond, to question what in the world he was implying.

She didn’t get that chance. Killian crashed his lips against hers. It was surprised her at first, for a moment she was still, he pulled back, face flushed in embarrassment.

“I’m-“

But Emma wasn’t.

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him in for a real kiss. It was positively electric, she could feel his hand in her hair, the other on her waist. She hadn’t been kissed with this much want, this much passion…maybe ever. It felt like he was water and she was beyond parched. For the first time in years, Emma felt like a woman, not a creature. The way she pressed against him, tracing the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed, it was…

When they parted, it left her breathless, she was _never_ breathless. When she had been with the Huntsman, it had been enjoyable at best. This... Emma stared at Killian, his fingers on his lips looking at her with disbelief.  This…Deckhand made her feel alive.

“That was…” She breathed.

“Yeah…” He echoed.

She was going to say something, anything because for all her strength, she couldn’t find enough of it to make her let go of this man.

“Viccy, Killy, Dark One, I’m back!”

They practically leapt away from each other, like flustered teenagers.

“Now what did I walk in on?”


	13. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/20/17: Now beta read by the insightful notoriouscs

 

 

He is angry. Lately he feels like he’s in a constant state of rage, a feeling he doesn’t like. It’s dark and terrifying.

But what does his mood matter if he’s a dead man anyway?

“ _ It’s true, Killian. You are going to die. Your brother sent you here with a note telling me that you didn’t – couldn’t remember it.” _

What would have happened if he never went after Swan? If he never had his mind probed and prodded by magic? What would have happened if he  _ never _ remembered?

Would he just drop dead one day? Or would it be a slow weakening of his body?

“What did I walk in on here?” Elizabeth repeats.

_ “What exactly do you want Sailor?” Emma had asked him. _

_ What a ridiculous question. Emma Swan. All he wants is to be by her side. Why else had he saved her? Trusted her? Killed for her? _

_ Make no mistake. He has wanted her since she asked that question the first time. But he was afraid, afraid she didn’t want him, afraid that the second he opened himself to the possibility of more, she would disappear back into her world, leaving him to his. _

_ But this time, he isn’t afraid. He’s dying. What does he have to lose? _

_ So he kisses her. He takes a risk and goes for it. He feels her freeze against him, and his heart drops into his stomach. He pulls away to stammer out an apology he doesn’t really mean. _

_ But then, suddenly, she is kissing him, and it’s everything. She burns into his soul, makes him feel brave, like the hero he once wished to be. He never wants to stop kissing her. He would be content to spend the rest of his life in this moment. _

“Are you two even listening to me?” Elizabeth snaps. 

He isn’t.

Finally waving the list of needed supplies to get their attention, she tells them, “I got you your stuff, had the goods delivered to your boat.” 

“Liz,  _ the Jewel of the Realm _ isn’t a boat,” he chastises. “But thank you. We’ll just take our leave then. Come on, Swan.” He reaches for Emma’s hand, but she pulls away, a blush creeping over her cheeks. It makes him grin. Now at least he knows how to fluster her the next time she tries to make him sweat.

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality,” Emma says softly.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to Victor?” Elizabeth asks Killian.

He clenches his fist, wanting more than anything to punch the healer, the man who had been family to him for years, the man who spent all that time only pretending to care about him.

“I already did.”

…

Emma waits until they’re back on the ship, away from the noise of the harbor, before she speaks. “You’re angry. You’ve been angry since before we…we talked, since you were arguing with Victor.” 

He nods. “If I tell you, you’re going to hate me,” he says quietly. 

Even though kissing her had made him feel more alive than ever, he is still dying. He will end up being just another person to leave her, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

Emma sighs, leaning into him. “Try me,” she challenges. “You’re talking to someone who has done terrible things, who has slayed villages simply because they were in the way.”  

Killian averts his gaze to look at the water. The ocean always calms him. Whenever he’s had a problem before, being on the waves makes the world seem bigger, his problem smaller.

“Emma, love, I want to tell you, but it’s something…something I’m having trouble accepting myself. Admitting it to you … would make it real.”

She considers his answer for a moment, before she shrugs and turns away with a muttered “Fine.”

“Swan -“ he calls after her, but she shakes her head.

After a few minutes where they both stare out to sea on opposite sides of the ship, Emma walks back toward Killian. “Ingrid and Elsa are late. Think we should leave without them?” she asks, mischief dancing across her face. 

He reflects the look, taking her peace offering gratefully.

“It would be dishonest to say that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” he admits. “But my loyalty is to you, so I will let you decide.”

She smirks at that, moving into his personal space. “My decision? Tell me, sailor, what do you think I want to do?”

His face heats at the way her tongue flicks over the words. He can’t help staring at her lips. 

“Ah…” he stutters as she advances on him. Electricity races up his arm from where her hand falls on it. “Emma…” he breathes as she locks eyes with him.

“Careful sailor, you’re turning pink. Makes a girl wonder what ungentlemanly thoughts are running through your head.” 

He gasps as she rests a hand on his neck. He presses his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent. He wants to kiss her, wants to lose himself in this moment.

_ He’s going to die on his 30 _ _ th _ _ birthday. _

He can’t. He can’t do this to her. He isn’t that guy. He’s not his brother.

“Looks like the Dark One finally decided to grow a pair,” interrupts a snide voice. 

Killian and Emma spring apart. “There you are, Elsa! You two are late,” Emma snaps.

“Well we had quite a trek to get to the Wizard,” Ingrid explains. “He told us where to go to find Anna’s true love.”

Emma laughs, dark and mocking. “Please, that’s just a load of crap,” she rolls her eyes. “True love isn’t real. Of course you’d believe in something silly like that.”

“I know it’s real,” Elsa says, chin up. “It has to be.”

Emma almost lets it go. Killian can see her loss of interest. He’s confident enough in the temporary truce to begin guiding the ship into open water. 

“Come on, Elsa, let’s go. She can’t hope to understand,” Ingrid says, hand on Elsa’s shoulder, trying to lead her away. 

He sees the warning  in the small movements of Emma’s body, the crease in her brow, the clenching of her hands, the way darkness swirls in her eyes. 

Emma laughs bitterly again, whirling back around to face Elsa and her aunt. Ingrid is baiting Swan. He can see it plain as day, venturing closer apprehensively. He wonders what Ingrid is thinking, trying to provoke an altercation. What does the White Witch stand to gain?

Ingrid appears behind him, Emma and Elsa too absorbed in bickering to notice. “I have a deal to offer you, Killian,” the witch murmurs. He doesn’t dare move a muscle.

“I’d expect such silliness from Ingrid, but not you, Elsa,” Emma is taunting. “I thought you were smarter than that. Besides, I thought you said she loved Hans, and he’s dead, blade straight through his dark little heart. So if your precious true love’s kiss myth is real, then your sister is gone too.”

Elsa snaps. She throws a bolt of Ice at Swan, hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her off her feet. When Emma gets back up, she turns to Elsa with an unhuman look. She’s all Dark One as she claps her hands, sending a stream of dark magic to strike Elsa right back.

Killian can only observe the witch fight from across the ship, cornered as he is by Ingrid and her sinister offer. “Aye? And what would that be?” he answers, fighting to keep his tone level.

“The truth,” she says, pausing a beat before elaborating. “I can untangle the magic obscuring your memories, let them come back to you all at once instead of the trickle of fragments that’s been driving you mad.”

He tenses. “But you’re not going to help me out of the goodness of your heart,” he realizes. “You want something from me. I thought you were the goody two shoes, all about family and forgiveness and such?” 

“This  _ is _ for my family. I want you to leave Emma. Stop making eyes at her, stop the puppy dog act, stop all this nonsense before one of you gets hurt,” says the Ice Witch. “You don’t understand her, us, so stop trying.” 

Killian doesn’t respond, and Ingrid fades away as if she were never there.

_ If I agree to her terms, I can get everything I want. I’ll stop being tormented by these half-remembered scenes that make no sense. I’ll finally know the truth, maybe learn something that will help me find Liam. Then I can return to my life, return to the life I’ve lived for the last 14 years. If his Captain doesn’t kill him first. _

_ As well as the unsavory fact of killing a monarch. _

A knot forms in his chest as he tries to focus on the logic of his situation. He rings his hands through his hair. 

_ But I’d lose Emma. I’d be just like all of those people she told him about, who used her and then left her. He would break his own heart just as much as he would hurt her. _

Killian feels stuck between many potentially self-destructive decisions. 

He hears Elsa yelp in pain, jarring him back to the present. 

Swan is going to kill Elsa. He can’t let that happen. 

“Swan,“ Killian tries to reason as he launches himself across the ship to reach her. 

“That’s right, let the sailor tell you what to do,” Elsa sneers. Maybe she has a death wish, because his warning glare isn’t stopping her provoking words. “Show the world that to control the Dark One, you don’t need a dagger. You just need a sob story and a pretty face.” 

Elsa throws her hands in the air dramatically, miming a swoon.“Swan, Swan, oh Swan,” she mimics his accented voice badly. “Please don’t hurt anyone.” 

Killian stiffens. Images of stabbing Hans replay in his mind. He sees himself, stabbing the King over and over again. Who is he to preach about not hurting people? He’s a hypocrite. A bloody hypocrite! 

He can see the moment Emma snaps. She pulls her arm out of his grip and throws a right hook into Elsa’s jaw.  He hopes the resulting crunch is more satisfying than a magical deathblow would have been.

“Shut. Up.” Emma growls. “Go rescue that ice cube you call a sister, and stay away from us.”

“Hit a nerve, huh Swan?” Elsa snickers, though it doesn’t come out very clearly through her clenched teeth. She spits blood at Emma’s feet. “Good.” Before anyone can make a quip about putting some ice on it, Elsa waves her hand over her face, healing the damage, and turns away to rant to her aunt.

“Swan…” Killian says softly. He places a tentative hand on her shoulder. 

She slaps him away. “Don’t you dare!” she seethes. “If you’re going to stick around, then we need some ground rules.”

He takes an unconscious step back at her sudden violent expression. “Fine, Swan. How can I perform to your liking?” He’s too stunned, and maybe hurt, to think better of sarcasm in response to an angry Dark One. He hates the idea of listening to her set terms; the very notion implies some sort of corrupt arrangement. It’s too similar to his captain spelling out the rules of his servitude.

“For one thing, can you stop shutting me out? I want to –“. Her voice softening from shout to silence, she can’t quite complete the thought. 

Killian steps back into her space. “Tell me, Swan? What do you want? My heart? My soul? A promise never to disobey your nefarious wishes?” His volume is lower too, but it only makes his words strike deeper.

“No I –“

He goes on over her reply, “You called me a tool once. Is that still all I am to you? A servant at your beck and call? A pet for you to train?” Killian’s control over himself is running thin, his emotions pulling him in a dozen directions.

He can’t snap at her again.

He has to.

Emma looks stricken. “Killian-“ she tries again, needing him stop but not quite knowing what to say. “No. That’s not what I want,” she promises, biting her lip. “I don’t know what I want, ok?!” 

But her body does. With the next breath, she reaches out to the lapels of his jacket and tugs. And then she’s kissing him.

And he’s kissing her back, nipping at her lips, breathing her in. He can feel the desperation in the kiss, the way she clings to his jacket. He wonders if she can feel his own fear. His fear of not being enough, of letting her down. No matter how tightly she clings, he’s going to let her down.

“You’re not an object,” she breathes into his mouth. “Or a servant,” she kisses his jaw. “Or an animal,” she whispers into his ear. 

And he knows it’s true. Nothing about this kiss says business transaction. When Emma comes out from behind the Dark One’s mask, shows herself only to him, she makes him feel like a king, not a slave. Like a captain instead of a deckhand.

“But still your favorite, I hope,” he grasps for levity before the weight of their feelings, their fears, drags them down. 

“Course,” she smiles, a little breathless. “I haven’t done this for a while...” She admits. 

“Kiss?” He teases.

“ _ Care.”  _ She insists. “I didn’t expect to care about you.”

Her admission takes him aback. He doesn’t know how to process it. He doesn’t know what to say. Apparently neither does she. She pulls away, ducking to avoid his gaze. 

“Now go chart a course…please. You and I are going back home.” 

“If the lady wishes it,” he says with an exaggerated bow. He loves the sound of her laugh.

He feels something expand in his heart, something hopeful, he thinks. Whatever doubts he feels about returning to Misthaven, about finding his brother, about learning the truth have faded under her touch. He’ll be ok. If someone as breathtaking and as brave as Emma cares for him, he’ll be ok. Who needs memories when you have a Swan? 

…  
His ebullient mood lasts a good hour. Emma follows him around the ship, asking questions and making snickering comments.

“Why do you keep adjusting the sails?”

“How do you know which way we’re going?”

“I wonder how loud we’d have to be to get Elsa’s attention.”

Sharing his beloved ship with his…his Swan is pure happiness.

“Killian? What’s that?” 

He looks up, expecting it to see her pointing at some routine piece of sailing equipment, some new thing he can teach her.

She isn’t. He follows her gaze to the horizon. A black sail. Killian curses.  _ Bloody black sails. _

“Emma, go get Elsa. I’m going to need both of your help,” he says flatly, rushing to the wheel and making a sharp turn. 

“Why? What’s happening?” Emma asks.

“Well Swan, you turned me into a ship captain. Now we’re going to see if I can turn you and Elsa into my crew. We’re going to outrun a pirate ship.” 


	14. The Dangers of the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/11/17: Beta read by the brilliant notoriouscs

 

As soon as he spots the ship pursuing them, Killian steps toward the helm and into the persona of a  _ real  _ captain. He barks orders at Emma and Elsa without sparing the time to properly beg favors of two powerful royals.

Emma isn’t sure she can handle taking orders from anyone, even Killian.

Elsa used the opportunity to further agitate her, taunting her whether she obeyed his commands or not.

“If you know what to do to outrun that ship, your majesty, go right ahead,” he snaps. 

“Why don’t we just blow them out of the water?” She asks, crossing her arms. “Then we won’t have to rush anywhere.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “And have the entire Navy on our tails?” She asks. “You know better than anyone that they track large magical occurrences.” 

Elsa sighs in annoyance. “And who’s fault is it that they’re eve hunting us?”

Emma didn’t even bother to reply. 

“Now if that’s settled,” Killian starts. “The Queen Anne’s Revenge is second in speed to one ship and one ship alone.” He points to the deck. “None other than the Jewel of the Realm. But that only helps if we move at maximum speed. If we don’t pick up the pace, we _ will _ be caught, and we  _ will _ have to fight to the death, with or without magic. So please, just do as I ask.”

The way he sounds is shocking, but somehow right. Emma knows that this is who the real Killian was always suppose be. He is in his element, and even though he looks concerned by the oncoming danger, he exudes in control.

She isn’t sure she can handle that either. Every fiber in her body screams at her to reach up,  grab him by the collar, and kiss him senseless. 

Emma has to work overtime to keep herself in check.

The change in Killian is apparent to more than just Emma. Even falls in line. He moves efficiently, telling them which sails to adjust to catch the wind and how to tie them securely. It’s clear how well he knows the ship, how to work with her to coax out her best sprint, how to avoid creaky planks and difficult to wrangle ropes.  He seems to just  _ know _ .

Emma wonders how long he’s lived aboard this ship. He mentioned his brother owned it previously, but she hadn’t realized just how far beyond a deckhand’s his knowledge goes.

“This isn’t just a few planks and a sail, Emma,” he says suddenly, in between instructions. “The Jolly Roger is my home.”

Emma catches his inconsistency. “I thought this ship is the Jewel of the Realm?” 

A nervous smirk appears on his face, eyes hiding a secret. “Yes, yes of course. The Jewel is my home, Emma. I know her well.” 

Even with the ladies’ help and Killian’s expertise, it still takes hours to lose sight of the enemy ship. Eventually he allows Elsa to go below deck. Actually he demands she do so, as “her bickering will only get them bloody killed.” He still hasn’t released his control of the helm, his hands practically white from gripping it so hard.

“Killian? Do you need anything?” Emma asks. 

He keeps his eyes trained on the horizon. “I’m fine, love” he replies. “Just worried. They shouldn’t have gotten that close to us. I was distracted. I’m sorry.”

Emma shakes her head. “It’s ok. We’re almost home, and then you can let me take care of things, all right? I’m much better at staying safe on land.” 

He freezes, still not taking his gaze off the horizon. “Really Swan? You…you want me to come with you?” 

_ Is he kidding? Of course! _ He’s risked so much for her, and she doesn’t want to lose him, lose this chance at…whatever this is.

“Only if you want to,” she promises, mindful of their recent conversation about her controlling him. “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

He gives a small smile. 

“I do enough of that for the both of us.” She says.

He laughs darkly, head bobbing in exhaustion. She watches him tap his leg rhythmically, an indication, she’s learned by now, of how done in he is.

“Sleep on it, Jones,” she replies. Her pointed gaze shifts to his leg, making him quit his nervous motion. “Seriously, you’ve been moving all day,” she reminds him, and yesterday had been hard enough. “How about I keep the ship steady while you take a nap?” She places a hand on top of one of his where it grips the helm. They’re warm from the sun. 

Killian shakes his head, pulling his hand out from under hers, sliding it lower on the wheel, still holding on for dear life. “I’m fine, Swan,” he insists.

That is an obvious lie, and he knows he’s not fooling her. “I really don’t want to sleep right now,” he adds. A sprinkle of truth to go with the lie. 

Emma doesn’t need to be all-powerful to understand that logic.

“Scared, sailor?” she challenges, “about what you’re going to see when you close your eyes?”  Emma wants to take it back the second she says it. Perhaps it’s harder to change from her usual ways than she thought...

“If you drop the subject of sleep, I’ll trade you., question for question, Swan.” He winks flirtatiously as he adds, “after all, you seem awfully curious about my past.”

Emma nods with a smirk, licking her lips and wondering what she should ask first. This is a rare opportunity to get some answers, about Liam, about his knowledge of the ship, about everything. 

But one subject has Emma more curious than all the rest.

“You were in love once, correct?”

Killian nods. “And you?”

Emma nods as well. “It was with Milah, right?” 

Another nod. “What was the name of your love?” he counters. 

Emma falters. It shouldn’t be a hard question, yet somehow it is. “When I knew him, his name was Neal,” she admits quietly. Thinking about him makes her feel rotten, and dirty and downright ugly. “I later learned he had another name, but I never liked it.” She’s killed people for mere sport, but the way things ended with Neal…that haunts her even more. It’s one of her biggest regrets, yet she wouldn’t undo her time with him even if she could.

She looks at Killian’s tattoo peeking out from his sleeve and picks her next words carefully. She needs to focus on getting answers from him, not on delving into her own past hurts.

_ Let’s make him squirm, _ a dark voice within her sneers, but she fights it. 

“What did you love about her?” 

He relaxes his hold on the wheel a bit, breath hitching slightly, before he tightens his grip once more.

“She was  _ beautiful _ . I know a lot of people call their loves beautiful just because, but Milah, she was a queen. She left men stumbling over themselves in her wake,” he says with a smile, eyes closed. “She was also kind, unbelievably kind. People would come to her with their problems, and Milah would do what she could to help. She would do  _ anything _ to help,” he continues.    
  


“But she wasn’t happy, not truly. She had the heart of an adventurer. She wanted to explore the world, help it, change it for the better.” He stops suddenly, looking at Emma, knowing he’s said enough to answer her question, but he keeps talking anyway. “I fell for her almost instantly.”

Emma smiles, liking seeing him reminisce about happy memories. She expected she’d feel jealousy over them, over the way his eyes shine for the thought of another woman, but she doesn’t. All she feels is contentment to watch him recall a time before the pain.

“How did you meet your past love?” he asks Emma, flipping the spotlight back to her.

Fair is fair, Emma supposes. “I was lost. I was in a strange world, and he found me, took me under his wing. He understood me somehow, understood the hatred I felt in my heart,” she admits. Emma knows that her love for Neal was never as pure as Killian’s had been for Milah. Hers was fueled by hate and vengeance. It had been toxic, but wonderful. She needed the toxicity at that point in her life. Their relationship hadn’t been perfect, but there had been good in it. It eventually taught her how to get her way, how to control rather than be controlled. 

“I loved him, in the twisted sort of way that I could love, can love.” After all, Dark Ones don’t love. They can fake it, can use it, can wield it like a dagger or a sword. But pure, selfless love, the kind that makes you stronger, the kind worth bettering yourself to keep? That isn’t in the cards for her, won’t ever be.

Emma is lost in her thoughts for a moment, and then Killian’s lips are on hers, pulling her into the here and now with a gentle kiss, one hand guiding her head to his, the other resting on her waist almost possessively, protectively. It’s a gesture of comfort, but no less passionate for it., 

“Why are you taking us back to the past? Bringing up memories of past loves?” he asks once they part. 

“You’re the one who won’t sleep,” she deflects. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he reminds her. 

Emma sighs. Technically, it’s her turn to ask one, but she lets it go. “I want to be sure. I want you to remember how you felt before, to know if this…this connection between us, this chemistry, means something, if you actually care for me, or if it’s lust, if you just want me or –“ Emma is rambling. The mighty, terrible Dark One is rambling.

“Swan,” he stops her, thank goodness. “Oh Emma, I care. Of course I care, probably more than I should. You’ve opened up my heart in a way no one, not even Milah, ever has,” he admits softly, voice breaking on his past lover’s name. “I can’t explain it. I don’t know how.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment before returning her gaze. “Emma, I –“  He’s forcibly cut off when the ship lurches violently. He stumbles backwards, and Emma grabs the railing to steady herself.

“What was that?!” she almost shouts. 

“I don’t know Swan, but I intend to find out,” he declares, reaching for the spyglass tucked into his coat pocket. “Damn it,” he curses. “Look at the waves, Swan.” 

The rippling water has become choppy out of nowhere, picking up whitecaps despite the cloudless sky. Wave after wave slams into the ship’s hull, each one making it lurch.

“It’s the beginnings of a storm, love,” Killian says tightly. “I took us this way because the difficult current would deter other ships from following us, but with the storm as well…” His eyes cloud with doubt.

“Can’t I just push it away?” Emma asks. “It should be simple enough.” She waves her hand, a swirl of wind cupped between her delicate fingers. It would draw some attention, but it was better than being torn apart.

“You can’t!” Elsa shouts, charging onto the deck. “It’s a magical storm. Arendelle’s Rock Trolls conjure them to vanquish the kingdom’s enemies – something that you’ve made us into! If you use magic on it, you’ll only make it angry!”

Emma sees the guilt flash across Killian’s face. She draws Elsa’s attention back to her so she won’t notice. “And you weren’t one before? They blame you for killing your sister! Maybe they finally decided to get rid of you!” 

Elsa doesn’t take the bait. “Please. They always knew I had the kingdom’s best interest at heart, even while I was on my little freezing spree,” she replies, approaching Emma and jabbing her in the chest. “But you! You’ve doomed us all!” She has to scream the last part to be heard over a roar of thunder. The sky is turning grey and fast.

“Swan –” Killian starts.

Emma cuts him off. The last thing she needs is the sailor’s guilty conscious getting them in even more trouble with Elsa.

“Not now,” Emma barks, sending him a warning look. “Can we outrun the storm?” 

Killian shakes his head. “I’m…not experienced enough for that. If I had been captaining the ship for the last decade, then maybe.” He grins nervously “But I think I can get us through it relatively unharmed.” 

Elsa glares at Killian with cold fury, and maybe a little fear. “No ship can survive this storm,” she challenges. “Especially with your subpar skills,  _ mate. _ ” Icicles are forming on the deck in her wake. 

Killian narrows his eyes. “I’ve lasted through many a storm before,  _ love _ ,” he retorts. “It wasn’t even that difficult,  _ your highness _ .” Of course, those were natural storms. Here’s hoping that the Jewel’s enchanted wood is enough to give it a fighting chance against a magical one.

They stare each other down. It’s not a logical argument, since hoping to survive the tempest is their only option, but neither one is willing to back down anyway. The staring contest becomes a moot point too when a blast of wind tosses the ship and knocks them both off their feet. 

Stalemate broken, Killian down to business. “Emma, I need you to lower the main sail, or it’ll rip in this wind,” he orders. “Elsa, get the jib down.”

Emma hurries to follow his  the with magically-charged strength. Elsa follows suit.

Despite the cacophony of the rain and wind and waves, Emma hears a new sound cutting through it all. Screaming, low, desperate screaming. Emma turns to find Killian. He has one hand pressed against his head, the other remaining firmly on the wheel. He looks fine. He has to be fine.

Screaming. More screaming. 

_ Henry? _

Something roars in her ear. Disoriented, she loses her footing on the slippery deck. Her back slams into something hard. Then everything is cold, cold and wet.

Emma kicks her feet frantically even though she’s not sure which way is up. Then a jarring blow to the head, and everything goes dark.

 


	15. Confessions of a Guilty Conscious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/24/17: Now beta read by the glorious notoriouscs

 

 

_ He must be 14, mere months before…but he doesn’t know that yet. _

_ They’re in Arendelle. This is Liam’s favorite place in all of the seas. He loves the gold and silver they can steal here.  _

_ Killian doesn’t know why they’re here this time, not specifically, just that Liam is after the most valuable treasure in all the realms. Killian knows the ship has made port, but he’s not allowed off the ship. Liam says he has business to do. It isn’t the first time he’s said that, and Killian doesn’t argue. _

_ When Liam returns, he has the biggest grin on his face, chest puffed out and swagger in his walk. _

_ “I’ve done it, Victor,” he says to his first mate, who pats him on the back. “I’ve stolen the hidden treasure of Arendelle.” _

_ Killian tries to insert himself into the conversation. “Where is it brother? I wanna see!”  _

_ Victor and Liam laugh, the latter messing with his hair. _

_ “Little brother, you still have a lot to learn,” Liam snickers. “You’ll see her someday soon, I hope.” _

_ Killian pouts. “Younger brother!” he insists. “And why? Why can’t I see it now?” _

_ Liam is about to respond, but there is shouting that royal guards have appeared in the harbor. Killian knows what that means. Liam is already ordering his men to get the ship into open water. They have to hustle. _

_ But not to worry. There isn’t a faster ship than the Jolly Roger in all the realms. They outrun their royal tail in mere hours. Liam is excited as he addresses the crew about a new adventure. _

_ Then a storm hits, sweeping around them in mere moments. The ship rocking, the sails flapping violent, Liam instantly leaps into action, showing all exactly why he is the captain of the vessel. He even spares a second to tie Killian to the hull to keep the winds from sweeping him overboard. _

_ But the winds whipping at them send Liam reeling in agony even though he maintains his footing. His eyes look cloudy as he grips his head with one hand while searching empty air. He calls out for someone in the midst of his haze. _

_ “Liam!” Killian yells. His brother is too distracted to notice a piece of flying ice hit him in the head.  _

_ Killian’s shouts snap Liam back to reality for a moment. “I’m fine, little brother,” he says, getting to his feet. “This storm, it’s magic. It messes with your head, makes you hear things that aren’t there.” _

Even remembering Liam’s long-ago warning about Arendelle’s magical storms, Killian is not prepared for the hallucinations.  He’s not prepared to hear screaming in the wind, loud, agonized wailing in  _ her _ voice. Nothing can shake him as much as her. He tries to focus on keeping a grip on the wheel. He has to keep it steady lest the ship be thrown on its side from the winds.

Then he feels her, her hand on his, a gentle caress of her lips on his cheek. Her voice whispers in his ear _ , “Stop this, Killian. Just let go.” _

It’s tempting; to listen to Milah, to just let go, let the storm sweep the ship away in its mighty wrath. Just to be safe, in case he gives in to a moment of weakness, he secures the helm’s position as best he can with a line.

As soon as he ties off the rope, the screaming changes. Now it’s a boy shouting, “ _It’s your fault! You killed her! It was all you!_ _It should have been you.”_

Killian nods, silently agreeing with the boy’s accusations. He always has. His hands shake on the wheel, debating letting go and letting the wind just take the ship. He deserves it. He-

_ Emma. _

He has something more in his life now, someone more, than just his guilt.  “Aye, but it wasn’t me, and it won’t be today either.” He looks to where he sent Emma to drop the sails. He just needs a single glance at her.

“Emma?” he calls out for her across the empty deck. All he catches of her is a flash of blonde and then an audible splash. Cold dread crashes over him as if he were the one to hit the water. He rushes to the rail, leaning over to search for her. 

He imagines seeing Emma’s head pop up above the waves, watching as she vanishes from the water and materializes back on deck, safe and laughing. She will tease him for doubting her, for worrying about her. She’ll curse the storm for daring to wet the wings of the Dark Swan.

But in wet, windy reality, he doesn’t see her head bob above the churning water. Her triumphant smirk doesn’t appear on his ship.

“Elsa!” he yells desperately, already in motion to grab the main line of a sail and tie it around his waist. “Emma fell in the water,” he tells the Ice Queen. “I’m going in after her. You need to pull us back up when you see us.” 

She laughs violently, getting into his face, her hand tracing up his arm in a way that is eerily similar to Emma’s touch. “Who do you think pushed her in?” Elsa squeals. “It was so much fun!” She releases her hold, twirling as lightning crackles just beyond. 

_ What is she thinking? Murder aside, they need Emma’s help to survive this storm. Elsa wouldn’t risk her own life just to kill Emma…right?  _

“For Anna, and for my kingdom!” Elsa continues her mad ranting. “I don’t care if we were once friends, I don’t care if we were once sisters! Emma cost me my happiness!”

If he doesn’t get Elsa’s help, Emma will – he doesn’t know what –   _ can the Dark One drown? _

But he does know that he can’t lose her. 

“You’re wrong!” he shouts back to Elsa.

“She killed Hans! She killed Anna’s true love! She threw my home into everlasting turmoil and civil war!” Elsa reminds him in a growl.

He doesn’t think, doesn’t need to, as his next words pour out at the thought of Emma dying over his mistake.

“I killed Hans!” he shouts. “Emma  _ lied _ to protect me. Now  _ please _ ! Help me save her. She’s innocent.” 

Elsa’s face turns from manic glee to surprise to intense rage. Of course she wasn’t going to bother saving anyone now that he gave her a new target for her fury. “You!” she roars, ice creeping across the deck until it is entirely encased. “I’m going to  _ kill  _ you!”

He leaps back, slipping on the ice. “Go ahead. I. Don’t. Care,” he spits. “Just let me find her, let me save your friend, and then you can kill me. I won’t try to stop you.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns and dives from the deck into the icy waters below.

He swims frantically, searching, hoping to see her, or perhaps not to; he’d much prefer if she were safely onboard.

But then he sees blonde hair, and hair only, floating a small distance away. He swims to her as fast as he can, gripping her lower back with one hand and her shoulder with the other to pull her head above the surface. 

“Emma!” he chokes out between his own labored gasps, feet treading water without having to think about it. He is lucky, at least in this instance, that the Captain would often toss him overboard just for the pleasure of watching him try to get back on the ship. But he’s never tried it with another body before.

“Come on love, wake up,” he begs. Her face is hidden by a sodden curtain of blonde. The waves keep sweeping strands over her mouth no matter how much he tries to keep them out of the way. Her skin, always pale, is almost grey now, nearly fading into the color of the churning sea. She’s cold, so cold. To touch and the eye. No addictive inner fire, no becoming rosiness to her cheeks or distracting tint to her lips. 

He’s got her body. Now he has to get Emma back. He looks toward the ship, yanking hard on the rope.

“Elsa! Come on! Pull us up!”

Nothing happens.

Killian turns back to Emma, trying again to wake her. She could fix all of this with a wave of her hand. Her head just rolls onto his shoulder, but that’s the only movement she makes. He holds her a little closer.

Whenever the Captain threw him in the water, the sympathetic first mate always helped fish him out. But now his only hope is a vengeful ice demon, whose capacity for empathy froze over a long time ago.

Or perhaps not. The next thing he knows, he, Swan, and a mess of water land on the deck. Even while he’s coughing up salt water, it’s instinct to pull Swan closer to his chest.

“So much easier than pulling a silly rope,” Elsa sneers. “You two aren’t worth risking my manicure.”

He ignores her, turning Swan onto her back, listening to see if she is breathing. 

She isn’t.

“Swan, come on Swan, wake up.” 

She doesn’t. He knows she’s supposed to be the immortal Dark One, but she isn’t waking up, she isn’t breathing. 

So Killian does the only thing he can, pressing his lips to hers and forcing air into her lungs. “Come on love,” he pushes down on her chest, expelling a spray of salt water. He repeats the process once, twice, three times. “Come back to me,” he pleads. 

And then, like a gift from the gods, she jolts up, eyes snapping open as she starts to choke on the ocean in her lungs. He helps her sit up and pats her back while she coughs up enough water to breathe freely.

“Killian?” she rasps. Her beautiful green eyes are hazy until they focus on his, and he feels nothing but relief. “What? How?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer her, as cold hands grip the back of his jacket and jerk him up and away from her clumsily. “There. She’s alive. Happy? Time to die, sailor,” Elsa laughs, spinning him around to face her.

He looks to Emma, who is still on the ground, barely sitting up.

“She knows, love. I’m sorry,” he says simply, a nervous look on his face. Killian knows he should be scared, but he isn’t. He’s more afraid of looking back at Emma. He’s too afraid of what he’ll see.

“Don’t you dare, Elsa,” Emma hisses, weakly trying to get to her feet while shivering from the cold. 

He didn’t think the Dark One got cold, showed any sort of weakness, but apparently he was wrong. 

“Get your hands off of him,” she seethes.

Elsa laughs, snapping her fingers to shoot a bolt of ice at Emma, hitting her in the chest and knocking her backward. Her head hits the deck hard, knocking her unconscious. 

“Emma!” he yells, struggling to get to her. Elsa’s grip, however, prevents him from moving an inch. The witch moves her hand down to his neck, putting him in a chokehold.

“You better worry about yourself, sailor,” Elsa sneers as she pins him against a mast. Even when a wave hits and the ship lurches again, her grip is like stone.

_ He was going to die. _

He feels her hand reach into his jacket pocket and remove something before she sends him sprawling and slipping onto the deck. 

“Thanks for the help. I guess this makes us even now,” Elsa laughs. “Enjoy it for a few minutes until I get around to killing you.”

She tosses the object she took from him into the air. It’s light blue and no bigger than the palm of her hand. As it falls, it grows in size and starts to reflect different colors, like a prism. He can see reds and purples and pinks. Then, a ring of rainbow light explodes outward, nearly knocking him back to the deck.

_ It’s a person _ , he realizes as the lights fade _. Elsa just pulled a person from his jacket pocket. _

As the object, no – the woman – lands, her hands are wrapped around herself, and she’s shivering. He can see frozen patches on her skin and hear the chattering of her teeth.

“Anna?” Elsa asks hesitantly. The figure looks toward the voice, and Killian is sure he sees fear and confusion in her gaze.

“Elsa?” the woman eventually forces out through her chattering teeth. “Oh Elsa!” she sobs as she stumbles towards the ice queen. The rage melts off of Elsa’s face as she folds the redhead into her arms.

“Anna, oh Anna, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” Elsa presses into her shoulder, near tears.

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry!” the defrosted woman exclaims. “I should be the one apologizing. I was scared of you! So scared that I didn’t see that you were scared too.” 

Leaving them to their the warm reunion, Killian makes his way over to Emma. When he feels her heartbeat and her hears her breathing, he lets out a sigh of relief.  Elsa hears him, spinning around, rage taking over her face again. Killian flinches in fright, instinctively positioning himself in front of Emma.

“Almost forgot about you, sailor,” Elsa sneers, forming a ball of ice in her hand.

_ He was going to die. _

“Elsa, where am I? What happened?” Anna interrupts, looking between the two. 

“Your sister is going to kill me, lass, all because I killed someone to make him stop torturing my friend,” Killian explained like he was offering a weather report, knowing Anna’s interference was his only chance at living long enough for Emma to wake up. 

Elsa bellows in rage.

“Elsa, is that true?” Anna asks. 

Elsa lowers her ice-wielding hand. When she doesn’t respond to Anna, Killian decides to push his luck.

“Murder is a bad first impression, lass,” he says. “We average humans don’t exactly like it.”

Anna quietly pleads with her sister, “Elsa, please don’t. No more freezing, no more killing.” 

“Fine,” Elsa grumbles. “But the man he killed was Hans, Anna. He killed your true love.”

The Anna flinches back at the news her hand going up to cover her mouth in shock. She looks deeply hurt by the news.

Elsa takes this moment to raise her hand again looking, if possible, angrier than she did before.

Anna’s frown turns to a sad smile. “If he’s my true love, then I might as well be frozen again,” she says sarcastically. “He never loved me, Elsa. He broke my heart. He wanted me to turn to ice.”

Elsa puts a comforting hand on her shoulder as a wave pushes the ship off balance. Killian leaps toward the helm, grabbing the controls to level the ship. “Elsa, Anna, grab Emma. Get below deck and stay there until I come get you,” he orders. He can see Elsa sneer at him, a rebuttal on the way when none other than Ingrid appeared from down below.  

“I’ll take care of her Captain.” She assured him, waving a hand and Emma disappears before him. “Elsa, when you said my help was not needed above deck, I didn’t think that meant you would try to kill your sister.” The woman lectured.

Anna looks towards Elsa, Killian can see a dozen questions racing through her mind. 

Elsa catches the redhead by her shoulder to steer her toward the ladder leading below deck. 

“Your sister, Elsa?” Anna asks. “Where are we? What’s happened since I was frozen?” She looks at Ingrid in confusion. “Who is she? Why does she look a bit like Mom?”

Ingrid just fixes her with an icy stare.

“So much, Anna, so much, but right now let’s get you inside where it’s warm, ok?” Elsa answers gently, tears of ice slipping down her own cheeks. “Please, let me take care of you for once.”

Anna nods, a small smile on her face. “Of course, sister.”Before she can disappear with a triumphant smirk, Killian calls for Elsa to come back for a moment.  “I want an explanation,” he growls once they are alone. “I thought you said the only way to free your sister from the ice was to find her true love.”

“I don’t  _ need _ to tell you anything, but since I’m in a good mood now…I’ll just tell you the bare bones of it. The wizard said that I needed an  _ act  _ of true love. The obvious one is a kiss from her soul mate,” Elsa deigns to explain. “But since  _ someone _ killed him,” her eyes flash dangerously, “or at least I thought they did, I had to come up with a new plan. I’m far too cold-hearted to thaw anyone else with my affection, but I found a third option.”

Elsa gets in her triumphant smirk after all. “I know how to spot a man in love, a man ready to go to the end of the world for his mate.” She presses a hand over his heart. He gasps as the cold seeps into his chest. He didn’t know it was even possible for how cold he already felt after his dip in the sea.“And I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d trade yourself for her, before you’d perform an act of true love.” She pulls her hand back to offer a mocking little clap. “I planted Anna in your pocket hoping the magic from your charming little display would transfer to her. It didn’t even take you a day!” 

From her face, it’s unclear if she’s impressed with his performance or the brilliance of her plan. Probably the latter. “Of course, I didn’t think you were the one who actually killed my idiot brother-in-law, but surrendering that bit of info to absolve Emma, along with jumping into the ocean in the middle of a storm to save her did the trick. I would have let the pair of you drown if Anna hadn’t been in your pocket, now that would have been a perfect ending, but I’ll take what I can get.” She said with a shrug.

“There’s a problem with that, lass,” Killian finally found his voice after struggling to comprehend Elsa’s explanation. “I don’t love Emma. I can’t.”

Elsa lets out a laugh. It might almost be a real one.

“If you didn’t love her, then Anna would still be an ice cube, and you would be dead. But by all means, you keep telling yourself whatever makes you feel better, pirate.”

_ He doesn’t love her; He can’t. He can’t love someone only to lose her, to force her to lose him. He can’t be another person to break her heart. _

And yet, Elsa is right, Anna was thawed out. It meant...something. It meant his feelings for Emma were past the point of denial. Things were getting too complicated. “Elsa, can we keep this between you and me?” he asks. “Emma doesn’t need to know.”

Elsa just shrugs in reply as she goes to join her revived sister below deck.

Alone with his thoughts, Killian makes one thing perfectly clear in his head:

He will not love Emma Swan

 


	16. A Little Morality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/25/17: Now Beta read by the glorious notoriouscs

 

 

She remembers blue eyes and cold. She had been so cold.

But now she isn’t. Emma is wrapped head-to-toe in a blanket – Killian’s blanket. It smells of sea, and leather, and him. She’s in the captain’s quarters, the room Killian –

She shoots up, gasping for air. If she is here, then where is Killian? What happened?

_“Time to die, sailor.”_

_Elsa!_

She found out it was Killian who killed Hans. Elsa was positively furious when she thought it was her. She had gone as trying to kill her. Now that she knew it was Killian...

Emma should have been there to protect him. Yet all it had taken was a hit to the head and some cold water to take her out of the picture.

_If she hurts him – if Elsa dares to even touch Killian,_ my _Killian, I’ll slaughter her. Screw Elsa’s fears about a damn civil war. I’ll burn all of Arendelle to the ground._

“Elsa!” Emma roars, storming out the door that she threw off its hinges with pure magic in her rage. “Where is he?” She bursts above deck, but the helm is empty. Killian is gone.

_Did she throw him overboard? Did he drown, body never to be found? Was he frozen solid and shattered?_ Emma needs to know. After all, how else can she decide how Elsa will die?

“Elsa!” she bellows again, ready to charge into her room. Emma’s skin is practically glittering with furious magic.

“Shut it, Swan,” Elsa snaps, appearing above deck on her crystal throne. “There are people here trying to get some shuteye.”

Emma shoots a blast of something at Elsa’s head. She’s too angry to pay attention to what she’s saying. Ice explodes where Elsa’s head had just been. The witch is going to _freeze_ or _burn_ or _both_ if she doesn’t give the Dark One answers this instant!

Elsa, totally unbothered by the cold, mimes knocking on her own head. “Anyone in there, Swan?” she says sarcastically, tauntingly echoing Killian’s way of addressing her.

Apparently it was possible for Emma to get even more infuriated. She shoots off another blind bolt.

“Because as I said, people are sleeping,” Elsa enunciates like she’s speaking to child.

Emma looks past the mizzenmast to where Elsa is pointing. At a heap of leather? Emma looks more closely, and her eyes widen.

Asleep against a box, curled up, is a sailor, _her_ sailor.

“Killian!” Emma rushes to him. His hands are tangled in a mess of rigging, and he’s soaked to the bone. He must have been up here all night, fighting the storm on his own, before he passed out. The second she touches him, he stirs in alarm, eyes blinking sleepily.

“Is it morning yet?” he slurs, only half awake. “The storm, the storm, I have to –“

Emma smiles at his exhaustion, heaving to his feet and supporting him against her shoulder. “No Jones, the storm is over. You beat it! But now you need a bed worthy of a hero.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles as his head rolls into her neck. He can barely stand. “Seems you’re right about me needing some sleep, Swan.”

She laughs at his words, transporting them to the captain’s quarters and plopping him onto the bed before he has a chance to change his mind.

“Was this all a ploy to get me into bed, Swan?” he snickers after a moment.

Emma rolls her eyes.

“I’m supposed to be the one making _you_ uncomfortable with my comments, Jones,” she quips, pulling off his cold, damp jacket. She won’t be surprised if he gets a cold after this. She reaches into the drawer to find another shirt for him.

“Turnabout is good form, Swan.”

“Thank you, by the way,” she says softly. “You saved my life. Again.” It’s sort of getting annoying, constantly being saved by this man, this kind deckhand who should not be saving _her_.

He grins at her as she speaks, but then she reaches to undo his vest. In sudden panic, he pulls back, forcing her hands away from the clasps.

“Swan, I’m fine. Just leave me be,” he insists, pushing himself further onto the bed with trembling hands.

She gives him a pointed look. His hands are shaking so badly she doubts he can hold a glass of water to his lips if he wanted, forget about undoing the clasps on his vest. And it’s not just a matter of comfort. He needs to get warm and rest, or he’ll get sick. “You need to get out of those wet clothes,” she reminds him, reaching for the clasps once more.

“Please, Swan,” he says quietly, “I can’t.”

_Can’t what?_ Then Emma remembers something Elizabeth said.

_He deals with all of Killian’s “falls.”_

She looks back to Killian, noting his desperation. He doesn’t want her to see, to know.

Emma undoes his vest despite his protestation and tosses it onto a chair.

The half-healed stab wound in his side is healing nicely now. She sees three similar scars around it, as well as burns, from small, round ones to larger patches of scarred skin. The worst of his wounds are long slashes, healed into raised scars now, but still fresh enough to evoke images of the pain they must have caused.

She burns thinking about someone doing this to him; she wants to find the culprit, carve the same wounds into his skin, make him scream, rip his heart out –

“Please, Emma, don’t,” he tries in vain to hide his back from her. “I don’t need your pity. I told you not to” His words are dark and cold. “And I certainly don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” he adds, as if he can read the dark thoughts in her head. “Just give me the bloody shirt.” He demands. He practically snatches it from her hands.

“Fine. But I wasn’t offering any pity, Jones.” Her response is a little sharper than intended. She hadn’t meant to cause him embarrassment or anything. She was trying to help.

She watches him put the replacement on silently, only barely helping him slide under the sheets, blatantly ignoring the way his gaze searches hers. Whatever he’s looking for, Emma doesn’t give it to him.  She has to focus on to keeping her rage in check for his sake.

She pulls another quilt out of a chest and drapes it over the exhausted pirate before she lies down next to him.

The silence is practically echoing with awkwardness. “You know the cool thing about magic?” Emma asks suddenly. “It makes it really easy to cover things up.” She lifts up the hem of her shirt a bit to show the cut in her side that Elizabeth had stitched. Emma hadn’t bothered to heal it yet.

With a simple wave of her hand, it disappears, leaving only pale skin in its place. “It makes hiding the truth about reality so simple,” she continues. “If I didn’t have magic, I don’t know what I would look like. My mother used me for target practice as a child; it was her way of toughening me up. My father was merciless when he taught me how to use a sword. The only way to learn how to win was to experience what it felt like to lose, to be weak.”

She pauses, reminding herself that this is Killian. It’s ok to let him in, at least for a moment. “But some scars, the ones from a mother who couldn’t love you and the father who wasn’t allowed to, you can’t heal those wounds with a simple parlor trick.”

She looks to him for a reaction, but he averts his gaze. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, Killian. I won’t pretend like I do, but at least, at least I can try to understand.”

Killian shakes his head. “You fought back,” he challenges. “You got away. I haven’t. I won’t.”

Emma doesn’t believe that.

“What about now? What about today?” she asks. “You’re here now.”

He smiles weakly, eyes drifting shut. “I’m afraid, Swan,” he admits, “that whatever has come over me since I met you will vanish once you’re gone.”

She feels the tension leave his body with his defeated sigh.

“Don’t you know Killian?” She asked. “Whatever ha come over you as you say, has nothing to do with me. You are strong on your own, so strong.” She insisted. Killian was the bravest person she knew.

Emma kisses his forehead before getting up, ready to leave him to rest. She wanted to stay by his side, but she’d already pushed him too far once and the last thing he needed was to be pushed again.

“Emma? Stay?” he asks quietly. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise.

_Are you sure?_ She wanted to ask, but couldn’t find the words.

He reached his hand out finding hers. Their hands intertwined and he gave a gentle pull. “Stay with me.”

She smiles, crawling under the covers beside him.

“Always.”

 

She stays with him until he falls asleep, until she does too. Dark Ones don’t fall asleep. For a Dark One to sleep, their mind must truly be at rest, at ease. With all sorts of dark thoughts swirling around, it was usually impossible.

But here she is, practically cuddled into her pirate, slipping in and out of consciousness. Usually she’d be annoyed by sleep, the weakness, but here, it feels amazing. It feels like relief.

Emma isn’t just sleeping. She is also observing. She learns that Killian snores, that he mutters in his sleep, that his dark hair sticks up wildly as he tosses and turns.

She can also see the nightmares seconds before they come, the way his face tenses  and his breathing hitches and his mumbles form actual words – first “Liam,” then “Milah,” and the occasional “Bae.”  She is surprised when she first hears her name from his lips in a wail of anguish.

He wakes up briefly, smiling at her before going back to sleep. She’d forgotten how exhausting it looked to be mortal, to be helpless to fight the need for sleep and food and warmth. Not that she is totally free of weakness herself, but that’s her dirty little secret.

When Killian does eventually wake up for good, he does something funny. He turns onto his side so he can see her and takes her hand. She feels like a silly girl with a crush when she gets butterflies in her stomach from the simple motion.

“Think it’s time I told you my story, don’t you agree?” Killian murmurs, pulling her close. She smiles encouragingly and nods. She wants to know everything about him, but she’ll settle for anything he’s willing to give.

“I already told you about how my father was betrayed by the crown. But Liam, my time with Liam, that was the best,” he starts.

“He taught you how to sail,” Emma says softly, remembering that same look in his eyes from the first time he spoke of his beloved brother.

He nods. “Liam taught me how to fight, how to be a gentleman, even though he was a pirate. He would send me below deck while he raided ships, killed people, but I knew. I always knew. Yet it didn’t bother me. How could it? He was my brother. He never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it, never a woman or child, never someone unarmed. It was his code. He always fought with good form.”

Emma likes the idea of codes. She wishes she had one of her own, but every time she tries, her darkness flares until she breaks it.

“For years we sailed around on adventure after adventure. I was around 15 when something changed.”

Emma narrows her eyes but doesn’t interrupt Killian.

“He heard tales of a land where there was a magic plant, a plant that made you immune to magic and healed you instantly of all ailments. I don’t know why that was so important to him, but Liam became obsessed with it. It was called Dreamshade.”

Dreamshade…Emma’s never heard of it, which is a rare thing, as the Dark One knows about most magic. It peaked her curiosity.

“The plant was in another realm, Neverland,” Killian continued his explanation. “Liam stole a special sail that could get us there, but only the two of us.”

That doesn’t seem right to Emma, a pirate captain with his own crew taking only his little brother to a mysterious realm?

“The land has a sort of magic that prevents adults from functioning normally; they get confused and agitated. Children, however, seem to thrive on the magic. It was incredible, Emma. I felt more alive once I set foot there than ever before.”

But – there is always a _but_ to tales like this –

“But before we found the plant we were looking for, we met a child who warned us that Dreamshade was not a cure-all, but a deadly poison. I believed the boy, and I tried to deter Liam from touching it, from using it. But he wouldn’t listen. He wanted it, _needed_ it to work. I didn’t understand his instance. I still don’t, actually.”

Killian hesitates, closing his eyes, trying to collect himself. “He tried to prove to me it was safe. Watching my brother poison himself, watching him fall, watching him die…it was a _nightmare_.”

In that instant, Emma understands why he’s been so secretive about it. Telling her, voicing the words, meant he had to relive the pain. Maybe she should stop the story. She doesn’t really _need_ to know, not enough to cause him pain.

But Killian disagrees, answering her before she even speaks. “I need to finish telling you, Emma. I want someone else to know.”

With that, he continues with the darkest part of the tale. “I was crying over my brother as dark veins snaked up his arms, his chest, his neck. It was dreadful, but then the child appeared, offering me a cure for the poison – at a price, of course.”

“All magic comes with a price,” Emma echoes. No one knows that better than the Dark One.

“Aye. The cure was water from a particular, so I got some and helped him drink it. I gave my brother the cure, and he came back to me, Emma. I had never been so relieved. I thought that was the end of it. I thought we would go back to the Jolly Roger, back to our realm, back to our lives. Liam was ready to skin the man who had lied to his face. I was laughing, too relieved to be mad at the moment.”

Killian’s face contorts slightly, mirroring the confusion in his mind.

“This next part…there’s what I always thought happened, and now, after…well, you know, now there are new memories too, but they don’t fit together. It’s hard to make much sense of them.” He shakes his head, as if that will clear up the confusion.

“In my old memories, after Liam recovered, the child appeared, telling us the price of the magic. He said that the cure only works on Neverland. The second my brother left, Liam would die of the poison. He had to stay in Neverland forever. So we planned to stay. Living in the jungle couldn’t be so bad. At least we’d be together. But then a ship came. Liam tried to protect me the best he could, but I was stupid. I thought I could get them to help us, but I only put myself in more jeopardy. The Captain snatched me away with his crew, and he stole the Jolly Roger too. I remember crying, pleading for them to bring me back to my brother. The Captain burned the enchanted sail right in front of me, so I knew we could never go back.”

“The Captain told me that if I ever left my post, whatever ownership I thought I had over my brother’s ship would be lost. It’s why I never left, at least at first. Later I realized that even if I wanted to leave, where would I go? The Jolly Roger was the only thing left of my family, of my home.”

He hesitates, waiting tensely for Emma’s reply.

She is quiet for a minute, before answering softly, “It’s different now, Killian. You have someone. I mean… I think now you can be brave. I think you can take back your ship if you want it.”

He grins. She can see a snarky response forming in his head before it fades, and his face falls again.

“The thing is, Emma, I have a second version of these events spinning in my head now. It has me terrifi –“

Killian is interrupted by banging and yelling just above them. They both leap out of bed. Killian grabs another vest and throws on his mostly dry leather jacket.

They race up to the deck, blades raised.

“Pirates,” he growls, eyeing the grappling hooks thrown over the gunwales. The pirates are talking to Elsa, who is clearly infuriated. The deck beneath her feet is already frozen solid, and the chill is spreading quickly.

“Elsa, get back,” Killian orders sharply.

Emma watches as he takes charge, demanding to speak with the captain of the other ship.

One of the pirates steps forward. She can’t hear what the man says, but whatever it is, Killian doesn’t like it. He shoots back a response that makes the supposed captain just as angry.

“Swan, take Elsa below deck. I’ll take care of this,” he promises with a wink.

Emma rolls her eyes. Guess Captain Swagger is coming out to play again.

“Come on Swany, I’m in the mood for some bloodshed,” Elsa whines as Emma drags her away from the confrontation. “You’re no fun!”

“Jones wants to do this his way. Besides, we have some things to discuss,” Emma growls. “Like how you _threw me overboard_!”

Elsa grins. “Oops?”


	17. The Hard Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/11/17: Now Betad by the lovely Notoriouscs

 

Chapter 17

The Hard Way

Telling Emma the truth, at least most of it, is both painful and liberating. 

A part of him also figures that if someone, anyone really, knows his story, then perhaps his life won’t be in vain. If he can give Emma some understanding, some insight, before he eventually dies, then perhaps there will have been some meaning in his life. He just needs to get around to telling her the rest of his tale, about the poison, about Milah, about Bae.

Bloody hell will it hurt to tell her about Bae.

But now is not the time. He needs to wait until they’re alone to tell her the rest.

And they are  _ very _ not alone right now. Now there are pirates on the ship,  _ his _ ship. Not the Captain’s ship, not Liam’s. This is his bloody ship. 

Killian Jones does _ not _ want pirates on his bloody ship.

“My business is with the Captain,” he shouts at the strange men onboard, all of whom are leering disrespectfully at Elsa and Emma. Their lewd gazes make him tense, and he moves to block their views of the sorceresses. “And if you look at them once more, I swear they’ll be the last thing you ever see,” he growls raising his blade threateningly toward one of the men.

Their captain, a tall man with a large beard, steps forward.

A large  _ black _ beard.

“Who the hell are you? I know the captain of this vessel, and it isn’t you, boy.” 

Killian grimaces, but keeps his gaze level. These men feed on fear; they crave it. He is bloody terrified, but refuses to move a muscle.

“I’m the  _ new _ owner,” he replies with a sneer. “So either get off  _ my _ ship, or you and I are going to have a problem.” 

The pirate captain eyes Killian carefully, scrunching his brow. “Hmm. Who are you? I remember you.”

Killian remembers him too. It’s hard to forget that voluminous black beard. He’d seen the man several times throughout the years he sailed with Liam. Killian often saw his brother with this pirate carousing in taverns, drinking their gold away. One particular incident stands out in his memory, even without a Jabberwocky forcing him to relive it. 

_ “Now you, Captain Jones, know the important things in life,” the bearded pirate says as Liam throws back the liquor in his glass.  _

_ Usually Liam doesn’t let his little brother catch him at his “extracurricular activities,” but Killian had a nightmare and wants the comfort of his brother. So when he learned Liam went to town, thats just where Killian went to find him. He was either a brave 10 year old or a stupid one. _

_ “Gold, rum and women,” the man laughs. _

_ Liam nods in jovial agreement before turning and spotting Killian,  _

_ “Kill…” Liam slurs. “What – Who –“ He reaches for Killian, stumbling. The younger Jones has to reach up and keep his elder brother from falling over. It scares Killian how drunk Liam is. He’s never like this. _

_ “I had a nightmare. Lizzie said you were here,” Killian explains quietly,it all feels like a stupid idea now. _

_ “Liam? Who’s this?” a blonde woman asks, draping herself over Liam’s arm, looking slightly annoyed. She’s wearing too much makeup and blinking at Liam over and over, for some reason. “I’m ready for my night cap,” the woman announces to Liam, popping the p. _

_ “Liam,” Killian says. “Let’s get out of here, please? Let’s go back to the Jolly.” _

_ Liam looks dreamily at the blonde, running his hand through her hair. “Princess...” he slurs, pressing his nose into her neck. The woman giggles and pulls him closer, making sure he can’t see the glare she is shooting Killian.  _

_ “Liam!” Killian tries one last time. _

_ The pirate with the black beard makes an irritated noise as he stands, towering over Killian.  Without any warning, the man hits him in the face. “He’s busy, boy. Make yourself scarce,” the brigand growls. “Can’t you see that your brother is occupied by important things? No time for little ungrateful brats,” he sneers, kicking Killian in the stomach. “You should learn by now that pirates don’t cry. They don’t run to their brothers because they’re scared of the dark.” He taunted.  _

_ Killian’s brother slides his hand under the lady’s shirt, paying no mind to the abused boy on the floor only a few feet away. _

_ “Liam…” Killian whispers meekly before bolting back to his room on the Jolly, where he cries himself to sleep. _

Killian straightens, mentally and physically squaring his shoulders. He isn’t that little kid anymore, and he intends to prove it. “Perhaps you’ve heard of my kin, Liam Jones.”

Both recognition and fear flash in the pirate captain’s eyes. 

Killian laughs loudly. “Ah, so you do remember him,” he sneers. “My elder brother had quite the reputation on these seas.  Beat you within an inch of your life for laying a hand on his family, as I recall.”

_ “Killian? Elizabeth said you were feeling ill and had a nightmare last night?” Liam asks, knocking on his door the morning after the tavern debacle. Killian refuses to move from his corner of the room. He hadn’t wanted Elizabeth to see him cry, and he especially doesn’t want to cry in front of Liam. _

_ “Killy?” Liam asks again, pushing the door open a fraction.  _

_ Killian hides his face under the covers. “Go away!” he yells, trying to keep tears from escaping yet again. He can’t help it. All Killian wanted last night was his big brother, his hero and protector, and Liam hadn’t cared, hadn’t even noticed when his friend hit his younger brother. _

_ Despite his protests, he hears Liam’s quiet footsteps enter the room and feels him sit down beside him. _

_ “Killian? What’s wrong, little brother? Are you ill again? Chills? Tummy ache?” he presses, pulling the blanket away. _

_ Killian refuses to look at Liam but hears his gasp all the same.  _

_ “Oh Killian, what the bloody hell happened?”  _

_ Killian flinches away when his brother’s hand pushes against the dark bruise around his eye. “Leave me alone!” he snaps, He isn’t going to cry. Killian Jones is a pirate, and pirates don’t cry! _

_ “Killian, what’s wrong? This isn’t like you,” Liam insists. _

_ “I had a nightmare last night,” Killian says simply, watching Liam for any sort of recognition. Elizabeth told him once that when Liam and Victor went to taverns, they sometimes had trouble remembering what happened. _

_ “A nightmare…” Liam repeats, grabbing his head. “I thought that was a dream…I’m sorry, Killy. I don’t remember much. Please tell me who did this to you? I’m your big brother! I have to protect you, but I can’t unless you tell me what happened.” _

_ Killian feels tears slip down his cheeks no matter how much he tries to resist. _

_ “I was scared, but you were kissing some blonde and acting funny. I wanted you to stop and…” Killian hesitates, breaking from sniffles into complete sobs. “And your friend hit me and kicked me and … and … and, he told me you were too busy for me. He said I wasn’t important to you.” As his brother tries to pull him into an embrace, Killian pushes him away. “So just go away!” _

_ Liam doesn’t respond for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists before placing his hand over one of his little brother’s bruises. “Killian, look at me,” he insists.  _

_ “You, my dear brother, are the most important thing in the entire world to me, more than gold, more than any woman. You are my little brother. I love you. I’m so very sorry that man laid a hand on you. He shouldn’t have done that, and I should have beaten the daylights out of him – a mistake I will rectify as soon as possible,” he adds harshly. _

_ “I promise, nothing will ever keep me from putting you first again,” Liam vows, pulling a stunned Killian into a hug. _

It’s not lost on Killian that Liam broke that vow only a few years later. Now that he remembers the truth, the fact that Liam traded away his little brother for his own life is never, for a second, lost on him.

“He hasn’t been heard from in 15 years,” the enemy pirate captain responds to Killian’s mention of Liam. “I thought he perished, caught by some country, hung for his sins.” 

Killian laughs, flipping his blade with forced calm. “Please,” he chuckles, “My brother is a legend. He wasn’t caught by some puppet king.” Killian circles the opposing pirate slowly, menacingly, gathering his thoughts. “No, Liam is far too ruthless.” 

The pirate captain has his sword in hand, but he seems too curious about Killian’s tale to raise it. And Killian, who is used to blocking out thoughts of Liam’s disappearance, is only too happy to play with it now, to use Liam’s name to get his way.

_ “He’ll die on his 30 _ _ th _ _ birthday, and you, Captain, will live.” _

After all, it isn’t like Liam had cared for him anyway. He had been no more than a pawn to Liam, an object to trade in when he needed to. Turns out his older brother had been – still is – nothing but a coward. What does Killian care about his bloody name? His bloody reputation? After all, the man sent him away to live 15 miserable years alone, just waiting until he is scheduled to die. 

“Traded away his own brother for a little gold. Did you know that?” Killian lies. “Gave me this scar, right here on the cheek,” he muses, tapping his skin.

_ “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kill,” Liam says, bandaging the wound. “Why were you running around the deck like that while I was sparring, anyway?” he demands. He’s shaking, terrified at the thought of hurting the boy he’s supposed to be protecting. _

Killian is a liar, but what the hell, so is Liam. Except his own lie won’t hurt anyone, while Liam’s broke Killian’s heart and ruined his life.

His pirate opponent eyes him warily. 

Killian doubles down on the swagger. “Now I have his ship, so what does that tell you?” 

The man huffs, drawing his weapon. “The last captain of this ship was not Liam Jones, lad. But now I recall where I saw you last, boy.” He closes the distance between them with a repulsive leer on his face.

_ Liam returns to the ship with bloodied knuckles and darkness in his eyes. It’s the same look he often wears when he comes back from “pirate business.” Killian watches him lift his flask slowly, studying it. Without warning, he hurls it across the ship and turns his back to it in a single motion, eyes finding Killian’s. _

_ “He’ll never hurt you again, you understand?” Liam promises. _

_ “The man with the black beard?” Killian asks haltingly. _

_ “No, Killian,” Liam shakes his head. “The man…the man who nearly drank himself to death last night, the one who was too preoccupied by his own misery to notice that you needed him, the man who let you down last night.”  _

_ From Killian’s expression, it’s clear he doesn’t understand. _

_ “That man, the man who I’ve become, will never rear his ugly head again, understood? I’m so sorry, little brother. Things will change. I’ll change. I swear it.” _

As it turns out, no matter how much they remember, pirate captains who hit small children and then get pummeled in return by younger, stronger captains prefer not to recount their beatings in front of their crews. 

So the bearded pirate calls up a different memory.

“You’re the cowardly deckhand who couldn’t even hold his rum.”

Killian scowls, “I’m allergic.” 

The man scoffs. “Last time I checked, being a bloody lightweight isn’t an allergy, mate.”

_ He did something right and good. He stood out to the crew as more than just a deckhand. He could see it in their faces, the respect they had for his knowledge. So the rest of the crew take him out for some celebratory rum. Killian hopes this means they are willing to give him a chance, treat him like one of the guys.   _

_ Unfortunately, rather than buying him drinks as a gesture of friendship, they only get him hammered so they can set him up and laugh at his embarrassing antics. _

This pirate had been there, joining Killian’s crewmates in reveling in his misery.

He might have been a laughingstock then, but no more. On this ship, Killian is in charge, or so he tries to tell himself, swinging at the man.

As their swords clash, the older pirate goes back to needling him. In between taunts about his cowardice and stupidity, the pirate is gaining ground against Killian. The deckhand-turned-captain is putting on a good show for someone who wouldn’t pick up a blade a week ago and manages some impressive blocking maneuvers, but his seasoned opponent is stronger and far more practiced at this dueling-to-the-death thing.

Killian is starting to panic. He knows he should stay calm. He can’t afford to lose focus, but it’s easier said than done with his life on the line and a blade swiping ever closer to his body. He can barely keep him back.

_ Bloody hell, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to stab me, cut me, and throw me overboard. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. _

“Once we’re done with you, boy, the crew is going to have fun with those lasses. How  _ did _ you get them all aboard your ship anyway?”

_ Emma. _

Something in him clicks. He can’t lose here. He can’t die here. He refuses to. Because he wants her. He wants Emma more than anything in all the realms right now. 

_ “Liam, during the storm, you acted strange,” Killian says. _

_ They’re in Liam’s cabin nursing a cold. _

_ “I heard the voice of someone I love,” Liam admits slowly. “No one you know, Killy,” he says when Killian presses.  _

_ “Why not? If you love her, why haven’t I met her?” Killian asks, somewhere between confused and hurt.  _

_ “Because she’s scared right now, and it’s my job to protect her, even from annoying little brothers,” Liam tries to distract him.  _

_ “Younger brother!” Killian reminds him, but isn’t deterred. “And why do you need to protect her?” _

_ Liam looks up at the cabin ceiling. “Because, Killian, you have to fight to protect the ones you love. You have to protect them from everything, especially from your own demons. A man who won’t fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.” _

Killian forces Liam from his mind. The middle of a swordfight isn’t a great time to reminisce.

But it is a good time to remember Emma, to remember that if he dies now, if he loses this fight, then Emma will come out swinging. She and Elsa and possibly Ingrid will have to fight a full crew of pirates and draw attention to themselves. Even if they survive, they can’t sail the Jewel on their own. And he can’t even think about what will happen to them if the pirates get the upper hand.

He’s never had anyone else relying on him before, never been trusted to defend others. For his entire life so far, whatever he did would only affect him.

Now he has Emma, Elsa and Ingrid depending on him.

Now he has no choice but to win.

“You won’t get anywhere near her – them,” he answers. The pirate lunges at him, making him recoil to avoid getting hit. He tumbles to the deck in the process.

“ _ Her _ ? I see you have a special one, deckhand.” 

Killian gets to his feet in a flash, blocking the man’s next blow, one that nearly sliced through his neck. 

“I don’t think it was the icy blonde. She seems too rigid, no fun at all,” the lecher observes as he pulls his arm back. 

Killian takes the chance to put some distance between them, just enough to breath a bit. By now, he knows this man is toying with him, using Killian as little more than some entertainment for his crew, all of whom are playing along brilliantly,  laughing, hooting, demanding blood.

Bloody hell, the pirate is  _ still  _ talking.

“But that other blonde, with the  _ leather _ ,” he licks his lips obscenely. “I doubt a coward like you even knows what to do with a lass like her.” He pauses for crew participation. “After I’m through with her, she’ll know how a real captain takes a ship.”

Killian has to concentrate on not shaking with the force of his rage. The man is toying with him. Killian suddenly understands why Liam beat him so easily all those years ago. All this man cares about is inflating his own ego, not the battle before them.

Killian straightens, squares his shoulders and puts a pitying sneer back on his face. This man must not be very skilled if he’s relying on these tactics. “Please, you couldn’t handle it.” 

_ Perhaps he can do this.  _ Killian knows that what he lacks in experience, he can make up for in his knowledge of the environment.

The infuriated pirate lunges at Killian with homicidal intent. Perfect.

Killian doesn’t have the strength or the skill to win this fight. But he does have his ship. Captain or not, she’s always been  _ his  _ ship, every last plank of her. With the enemy stalking him step-for-step, Killian leaps backwards and just slightly to the left, knowing perfectly well –

_ crack _

– which board not to land on. As his prey falls neatly into his trap, one foot crashing through a rotting plank to hold him in place, Killian strikes. His opponent’s blade goes flying as the scoundrel flails, trying unsuccessfully to keep his balance.

The pirate audience gasps as their captain hits the deck, Killian’s sword held neatly against his throat.

“She prefers a man with a head on his shoulders,” Killian says with a smirk. “Now tell your crew to get off  _ my ship, _ ” he demands, eyes turning cold. “Before I make you walk the plank.”

The man rolls his eyes at that last bit of dramatics, as if he hadn’t been staging his own show the whole time. “Fair is fair, boy. You won our duel, and while my men could make short work of you, it would be bad form to break our deal.”

Killian’s breathing hitches.  _ Did he actually win? _

“And I do owe that brother of yours one for letting me live,” the salty captain mutters as he gets to his feet. 

Killian nods watching as the assembled crew disperses, grumbling but obedient.

“Killian, next time we meet, I won’t let you off this easy,” warns the older sailor. “You better build a crew you can trust if you think you can follow in Liam’s footsteps. A captain without a crew isn’t much of a captain.”

Killian doesn’t respond. He just watches, mind swimming, as the pirates board their own ship and sail away.

Eventually his breathing calms, and lets out a disbelieving laugh. 

_ I was just in a swordfight with a pirate, one who knows my brother. _

_ And I won. _

His small chuckle evolves into a manic release of tension, and finally into a laugh of pure victory. He’s on top of the world, and it’s all because of her, his Swan, because she gives him someone to fight for, and because she believes in him. He needs her right now, needs to see her, to tell her that he faced his foe and won. He doesn’t care that she’ll tease him for it later; he just wants her in his arms.

He rushes below deck, throwing open doors until he finds her. He whisks Emma up and into his embrace, twirling her until her feet dangle in the air. 

She shrieks in glee as he spins her. Over the sound of her laughter, Killian can barely hear Elsa scoff and Anna giggle.

“Emma, I did it! I won!” he crows, opening his eyes to take in the radiance of her features, the smile on her intoxicating lips...

“Easy tiger,” she breathlessly interrupts his adrenaline-fueled tumble from relief to lust. “I knew you could do it,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Oh Elsa! They really  _ are _ cute!” Anna gushes, nudging her sister. 

The Ice Queen rolls her eyes. “They’re nauseating.”

Killian puts down his blushing Swan. “Sorry love, I just got wrapped up in my excitement.” He scratches behind his ear, averting his gaze slightly.

With a gratingly false cough, Ingrid, the Snow Queen, glares at them. He squirms. The woman’s cold eyes just make him uncomfortable. And he still doesn’t know exactly what she did to him when she helped herself to his memories. Killian was thankful that she hated the outdoors  unless she could keep it below freezing, much preferring to stay below deck rather than help her nieces act as crewmen. 

“We  _ were _ having a discussion,” Ingrid scolds. “And you are interrupting, sailor. Go back to your post, and take Anna with you. We still have more to discuss,” she orders, waving vaguely toward the deck above.

Killian looks between Ingrid and Emma. He’ll wait for her word, his Emma. If she wants to talk to her sort-of aunt, then he’ll leave her to it, but he doesn’t like being dismissed by this woman.

“Elsa,” Emma says slowly. He can feel her anger vibrating under her show of calm.

“Emma,” Elsa mirrors in unspoken agreement.

Ingrid’s own fury appears just as bright as the girls’ her hands sparking with blinding white magic, somehow electric and cold at the same time. His instinct is to cower away from it, but he doesn’t let himself. He stands strong, moving his hand over his sword. He doesn’t feel like he’d stand much of a chance against this woman, but it makes him feel better to be armed.

“Girls, send your toys away. Now.” Ingrid’s command sounds like the order of a mother to her children, and he knows how well both of them will take that. Lord knew how angry Swan got when he gave her an order, and that hadn’t even been a direct one.

He exchanges a look with Anna, who is some combination of confused and terrified. They both know hell is about to break loose. Maybe they should step back, give the Snow Queen some distance before she reveals just how little she values their lives. It’s not an option for him, however, as Emma tightens her grip on his jacket protectively. Possessively even?  

“I have a better idea,” Emma growls, suddenly dropping her hold on him. “Killian, stay here with Anna. The three of us are going above deck for a bit, all right?” It may have been phrased as a question, but it clearly wasn’t one. 

He nods his agreement anyway. Emma keeps her glare locked with Ingrid’s as she pulls him in for a kiss. He knows it’s just to spite the Snow Queen, but he’ll revel in the feeling of Emma Swan’s lips on his any chance he gets.

He’s dazed for a second, which is all it takes for the trio of furious witches to disappear.

“Killian? What just happened?” the red-headed lass asks, eyes wide as she lets out a breath. “Everything was ok at least for the most part, like Emma and Elsa made amends and everything seemed like it was going to be ok, and then –“ 

He nods as he settles himself to sit opposite her on one of the beds in the officers’ quarters, the one Elsa has been using, he thinks. Might as well get comfortable. Who knows how long it will take for the ladies to cool off?

Pun intended.

“Your aunt has a particular disdain for our kind,” he tells Anna, laying back with his arms under his head, eyes drifting closed as the adrenaline of the afternoon fades from his veins.

“Our kind?”

“Mere mortals. Those of us without magic,” he explains, not moving. “She already tried to warn me off Emma.” Her ultimatum – his memories or Emma – still weighs heavily on his conscience. It’s an impossible choice, as the reason he wants to untangle his memories is to find a way to avoid abandoning Emma.

“Why would she want us out of their lives?” Anna asks in a shaky voice.

“Depends on what your impression of her,” Killian huffs. “I’ve narrowed it down to two probable reasons.” He’s been thinking about it for days. “If you believe her spirit to be as light as her magic, then she wants the best for them, her sisters, and she’s afraid we’ll hurt them.”

Anna doesn’t respond at first. “How could we hurt them?” she eventually whispers.

He turns toward her, looking at her carefully. “Your sister has magic. Shouldn’t you be the expert on this stuff?” he asks. He doesn’t really know the siblings’ story. “I’ve only known Emma and Elsa for a few days, and I’ve already gathered quite a few things about them.”

Anna keeps quiet, fiddling with her hands.

“From what I gather, Ingrid hates magical users, she believes we either hate and fear magic, or want to use it to control them”He can see the guilt on Anna’s face. 

A large screech comes from above deck. He shudders.

“I  _ am _ afraid of her, Killian,” Anna says softly. “She was so much fun when we were little, so gentle. But now? Now she’s terrifying. She almost killed you! She’s killed before, I can tell. What if…what if I make her angry? Will she kill me too? And Emma, she’s the Dark One! I remember the rumors, the horror stories about her, she was the stuff of nightmares!”

They are honest questions, but a dangerous ones.

“Don’t think like that, Anna. What does your heart tell you? Elsa may be different now, she may be harsher, colder even, she may be a bit rougher around the edges, but she still loves you. When she found you frozen, she was devastated that her magic harmed you, she became adamant about saving you, had her stunt with me failed, she was never going to give up until she’d saved you. Do you really think your sister who did all that would ever purposely hurt you?” he asks, taking her hands in his, stopping her fiddling and forcing her to look at him.  

She shakes her head. “What happened to me, being frozen alive, was an accident. Elsa didn’t even know it happened. I tried to find her, but I froze too quickly. Even if she would never do anything on purpose, I’m afraid of another accident. What if you aren’t there to unfreeze me?”

“So I guess you know, then,” Killian sighs. “About the feelings that Elsa thinks I have.”

Anna nods. “I heard what she said about what the wizard told her. Thank you,” she says softly, gripping his hands a little tighter. “I owe you everything.”

He rubs behind his ear. “But I don’t. I can’t. I can’t love, not right now,” he struggles to convince himself as much as her. “It’s not possible.” Not as long as he’s counting down the days until his death via curse.

He cannot love Emma Swan if he is going to die. He can’t be another person to show her love only to leave her.

“Hope you know you’re lying to yourself,” Anna says cheerily.

He groans in annoyance “Yes, I suppose I am.” He looks around to make sure it’s only him and Anna before he confesses, “it’s easier to hate the Dark One, to fear her, than it is to love her.” 

But he doesn’t hate her, could never hate her. Now he’s stuck going down the harder path. It had never really been a choice at all, not since the moment he saw behind the monster.

_ Killian hops into bed, legs crossed. “Falling in love sounds hard, Liam. It sounds scary _

_ That makes his older brother laugh. “It is. Falling in love is like finding and losing yourself in one moment. It’s like finding out that the only person in the world who can fix you is also the only person who can truly wreck you,” he explains, or at least tries to. “But you can’t help it, Killian. When you fall in love, you can’t help it. But once you do, you know. You always know.” _

Right now, Killian knows. He thought he knew with Milah, but this, this is different. This is a thousand times better. 

“Thank you, Killian. I think I know what to do now,” Anna smiles at him. “I think I know how I can avoid hurting her now.” 

He’s glad he could help her, even as in doing so, he realizes he’s so far beyond helping.  

“Killian?” 

They both jump. He stands to meet her eyes, a smile on his face.

Emma is smiling too, but it’s weak effort. He can see burns on her arms and exhaustion in her features, but there’s something else too. He wants to let her lean on him, let him soothe her obviously aching soul.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, moving to close the distance between them. 

But she steps back, out of his reach. She might as well have slapped him; he knows a rejection when he sees one. He doesn’t understand the sudden change. Emma went from possessively kissing him to pulling away.

“I’m fine,” Swan snips, crossing her arms almost angrily. “Ingrid isn’t going to be bothering us anymore. Just get us back to port.”

And she’s gone, her order left in her wake. 

Killian turns to see Elsa chatting easily with her sister. She has burns like Emma’s on her arms, but Anna is patching them with a smile, and both seems almost pleased for Anna to have a reason to take care of Elsa.

He looks back in the direction Emma fled, longing to go after her. First he’ll follow her wishes and check the ship’s course, but then he’s going to find out what happened.

He considers for a moment letting her, letting her push him away, but he can’t. 

He desperately wants to protect his Swan, but he can’t help gravitate towards her.

He’s a selfish idiot in love.

 


	18. Letting Go

 

She hated leaving him, being ushered away like a damsel in distress but Emma went along with it, she went along with it because this wasn’t about her, it was about him. She knew that _he_ needed this, _he_ needed a battle to fight, proof of _his_ own bravery.

Plus there was always something gratifying about facing an adversary and coming back on top, of winning. If Killian thought he could win here, then sitting down here was just what Emma planned to do.

Unfortunately, that left her down here with Elsa and Ingrid until Killian was done with his buddies. She hoped he would hurry; she wanted to spend as little time with them as possible.

_What she really wanted to do was get him back in that bed of his, back when he wasn’t dead on his feet._

“Hi!” Said a bubbly voice, it startled her from her less then pure thoughts about her sailor. “I’m Anna.” Emma turned to the voice, narrowing her eyes. A red headed girl a couple years younger than herself stood hand outstretched.

“Anna?” She questioned before looking for Elsa and the way she didn’t take her eyes off the girl. “As in Elsa’s sister Anna?”

She nodded. “And you must be Emma.” Anna reasoned. “The Dark One.”

_She actually did it. She performed an act of love, an act towards her sister. Her true sister._

And for some reason it burned her up inside, she felt nothing but rage towards the red head. The sister that never understood her, that had caused Elsa so much pain.

Emma smirked. “Yes, yes I am.” Anna flinched at her cruel gaze, allowing Emma to pass by her.

“You didn’t need to do that Emma.” Elsa interrupted. “Anna means you no harm.” Emma met her gaze just as sharply.

“What did I do Elsa?” She sneered. “Did I scare your _precious_ sister?” She said sarcastically. It made Elsa flinch too. In all honesty, Emma didn’t understand her own actions, she shouldn’t be so upset but she was.

Emma looked up; wanting to know what was taking so long. All he had to do is call her name and Emma would be there to skin the foe who made her appear, and Killian knew it. All he would have to do is call her and the other ship would be sunk to the sea in mere moments.

Thankfully Elsa had receded towards the opposite corner where Anna sat, still shaking from the cold. Elsa draped a blanket over her shoulders. Anna looked up and smiled.

Emma recalled a time the two of them got stuck in an ice cave, nearly freezing, Elsa had done the exact same thing to her after Ingrid found them, she had been so sorry.

It made Emma want to light the blanket ablaze.

Ingrid however, decided to make the waiting more unbearable than it already was.

“I think the three of us need to discuss our issues.” She said with her controlled grin. “Emma, why don’t you start?” Did the witch think talking would make it easier to sit in a confined space while danger lurked just above? That she would benefit confronting her issues as her sailor was up there doing who knows what?

However, Anna raised her hand and interrupted Ingrid. “Not to be rude, but who are you exactly?” She asked looking at the older Queen.

“Elsa, this is a family meeting, can you tell her to wait in another room.” Ingrid said dismissing Anna, looking at Elsa.

Emma chuckled, leaning back, knowing very well how Elsa would react.

“Anna is my sister, she is my family.” Elsa growled standing up ice creeping along the floor in her rage. “Anna, this is our aunt, she took me in and despite her prejudice for those without magic, she _usually_ means well.” She said, eying Ingrid dangerously.

As always, Ingrid didn’t flinch, her cold gaze unwavering, always unwavering.

Emma shifted her gaze; hoping ignoring the older woman would forget, too concerned with Elsa to continue her line of questioning. She just trained her hears to hear what was going on, hear the other men come aboard, swords drawn…

“Emma? We’re waiting.” Ingrid lectured. She cursed silently to herself

“Sorry Auntie, Emma is too concerned with the sailor, she’s gone soft.” Elsa sneered. Anna elbowed her softly making Elsa roll her eyes.

“Quiet, I’m trying to hear what’s going on.” She snapped back.

“Ok then, I’ll start. I’m tired of Emma’s selfish remarks. She’s so concerned with vengeance that she doesn’t even know that she’s become the very monster she wanted to destroy!” Elsa growled. “You let Hans die and risk my sister’s life.”

Emma turned towards the ice witch. If she couldn’t help Killian she was damn sure she would at least do something useful like thumping Elsa upside the head.

“Yeah? Fine. I’m sick of Elsa’s poor me crap. Boo who your parents hated you, they ran from you and ended up dying. Poor you that your little sister found love and would rather be tricked by a mad man than to love you.” She growled. “And you!” She said eyes shifting to Ingrid. “Trying to force us to be a family when we don’t want to? I hate you, I hate Elsa, the only reason I agreed to this was because the witch has a secret of mine.” She sneered, not caring that she may have revealed a tad too much. “Had it been up to me, I’d let Hans melt you.” She added with a grin.

She could feel Anna recoil, hiding behind Elsa. It gave her a feeling of glee. She always liked the feeling of fear.

Elsa ended up standing up, glaring at her. “We were friends once Emma, don’t forget that! It wasn’t me that threw it away!”

Emma laughed darkly. “Elsa, we were _sisters_ before as you recall. You thought Anna was there living alive and happy in that castle, and you turned to me to fill that void!” She hissed.

“And then you left!” Elsa growled, both inches from each other. “I needed you and you left! You ran!” She could feel Anna pressing herself against the wall, looking at them with terror, pure terror.

She was thankful that Elsa wasn’t looking in that direction.

“I couldn’t take you staring out the window, waiting for someone who would never come back! People like us can’t love like that! Waiting for your true love is like waiting for a sunny day here in Arendelle! If you want something, you have to stop moping and just go get it!”

Emma couldn’t stand the thought of one day seeing Elsa’s face light up, watching as the love of her life whisked her away, leaving Emma with nothing. It was better that she did the leaving, the heart break, before Elsa had a chance to do it herself.

“And I came back!” She spat back, reminding the witch. “I was sorry! I wanted my sister after…after I realized what I was! And you froze me out! You wanted your vengeance over the sister you lost more than the sister who needed you!”

She expected Elsa to shoot something hurtful back, but her eyes widen and she just slumps onto a make-shift chair. Emma can see the hurt in her face. She didn’t want that, she just wanted them to leave her alone. She just wanted to listen and make sure that Killian was ok.

“Elsa-“ Anna started. “Emma-“ But the mortal was at a loss for words, her eyes closed, tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I loved him Emma.” Elsa admitted. “But how could I tell you that? You always said that love didn’t exist, always said how betrayed you felt by love.” Then she turned to Anna. “And I couldn’t tell you because mother and father kept us apart, they didn’t want me hurting you, I never wanted to hurt you. Telling you about him would only hurt you.” She said softly.

“How would it hurt me?” Anna asked.

“Because I let him in, I opened the door to him but not you. It seemed safer to me, safer to let him in because I could live with myself if I hurt him, but not if I hurt you.” She said softly.  “There would be no fixing me if I hurt you again.” Elsa said with a trembling voice.

“Oh Elsa-“ Anna exclaimed. Emma could see her desire to embrace her elder sister, but didn’t. Anna was still afraid of her. Elsa turned back to Emma, obviously not noticing the look.

 “You’re right Emma. He’s not coming back; it’s been nearly two decades since he promised me...” She pulled out a gold coin. “He gave this to me before he left, before I became what I am, and I thought if I kept it…he’ be back. I still keep it because I want to find him, I want to see him. I still love him.”

She sucked back a breath, hands clawing at the buttercup tattoo and the piece of old leather tied around her wrist. “I did the same thing Elsa, but I threw it into the sea when I realized that if he had loved me, he would have found a way.” She admitted. The symbols on her wrist were of the hopes she had had of a family, of her family. The third trinket had hung around a silver chain was now gone.

“When was that?” Elsa asked.

Yesterday. Right after she kissed Killian, she threw out that damn Swan key chain right into the harbor. She watched it sink with a heavy heart.

“Doesn’t matter, what does matter is that you’re not all wrong. Our love, it isn’t the traditional princess saved by the prince type. You can’t wait around for things to turn out. You have to go and do something about it.” Emma replied softly. “And you have your sister back, your true sister, through an act of true love. I’m sorry I didn’t believe it.”

Elsa smiled softly. “You’ll find your happiness Emma. I know it.” She promised. “Maybe you and Killian-“ Emma cut her off, looking at her in surprise, she felt her cheeks blushing.

“There’s nothing-“

Elsa’s head dropped back as she let out a loud laugh. “Pleease!” She crackled. “Don’t try to lie to me Emms, I can see the yearning looks you give each other when the other isn’t watching.” Emma could feel the tension easing as Anna lit up.

“Oh oh, is he that handsome man above deck who you tried to kill? Oh he’s a looker, I’m surprised he hasn’t been grabbed already!”

Elsa and Emma exchanged glances, while Anna meant well, she had somehow managed to say the exact wrong thing.

“That’s Killian.” Elsa said simply. “Still alive and kicking.” Emma nodded.

“And mine.” She added. “For as long as he’s on this ship at least.” Elsa rolled her eyes.

“Then you might as well get comfy Emma.” She sneered. “I’ll admit, he’s actually growing on me a bit.” She snickered. “He’s changing, you both are.” She replied.

Emma crossed her arms. “We are not.” She refuted.

“You look lighter, less dark and controlled, you look peaceful here.” Elsa said softly. “And the sailor seems more sure of himself, like he has his footing under him for the first time in a while.” Emma thought for a moment, wondering when the last time she had seen the clumsy deckhand, tripping on his own feet, bowing his head away from her. It _had_ been a long while.

“Elsa. That’s enough. You know that people like us can’t-“ Ingrid interjected. It made Elsa groan.

“ _People like us can’t be with people like them.”_ She echoed the older woman’s teachings. “We get it! You were burned by your family as a kid, but it doesn’t mean that we have to give up!” She snapped. “It doesn’t mean I can’t be a family with Anna again, and it doesn’t mean that Emma can’t have a little bit of happiness with her sailor.”

She was about to reply, agreeing with Elsa, but then she heard something. She heard someone shove open the doors race towards her and swept her off her feet, spinning her around.

Her first instant was to fight back, but then she smelled the leather and the salty air of the sea and she just felt it, felt the fluttering in her chest, the happiness in his voice as he called her name.

“Emma.” He called, “I did it. I won.” She could hear laughter, his laughter, his utter joy, it had caused him to act like this. And it made her feel like this.

Loved.

“Easy tiger.” She laughed. “I knew you could do it.” She promised as he put her down a blush on his face. It just proved to her that this action wasn’t one he planned, wasn’t even one he fully thought through. This was Killian Jones free from his fears. It was breathtaking.

Maybe believing in happy endings was enough, it had worked for Elsa after all. She had her sister back. Maybe…maybe it was possible.

“Oh Elsa! They really _are_ cute!” Anna whispered, nudging the witch. She just rolled her eyes.

“They’re nauseating.” She grumbled, her admittance for actually liking the sailor gone. Emma suppressed a laugh, typical Elsa, hiding her feelings yet again.

Killian chuckled, putting her down. “Sorry love, I just got wrapped up in my excitement.” He scratched behind his ear averting his gaze slightly. She thought it was adorable as reality hit him, pink flushing his cheeks. She’d kiss him right now if they were alone, if Ingrid’s disapproving gaze wasn’t making holes in her head.

And then of course, Ingrid had to open her big mouth. Probably because she had come to realize that the second Elsa realized she still had Anna, all concern for Ingrid had vanished, now that Emma had Killian, her hatred for Ingrid had melted to plain indifference.

_Never could handle sharing could you Ingrid?_

“We were having a discussion.” The Snow Queen said, her gaze harsh and angry. She could feel it unsettle Killian, making his smile waver just a fraction. “And you’re interrupting, go above deck and take Anna with you. We still have more to discuss.”

Her own smile dropping into a cruel snarl.

_How dare she give_ her _sailor orders? Who does she think she is?_

“Elsa.” She said looking at the Ice Queen. She was just as protective of Anna as she was of Killian. She didn’t doubt that in this they were united.

“Emma.” She agreed. Sharing her gaze. She recalled how livid she was seeing Ingrid talking to Killian, daring to use a spell on him, she never did figure out what she had done. She just remembered the blank confused stare he gave her. Ingrid was a powerful sorceress, she could hurt Killian, she could hurt Anna.

“Girls. Send your toys away. Now.” She added in her commanding voice. It made one thing clear, something had to be done, and now.

“I have a better idea.” Emma growled. “Killian, stay here with Anna. The three of us are going above deck for a bit, alright?” She was glad Killian was good at reading between the lines, he nodded without argument, stepping away from the door. She could see the way Ingrid’s eyes glimmered with triumph over her orders working out. I made her quake with fury. She reached over and pulled her sailor towards her, planting an angry kiss on is lips, feeling is hand on the back of her head and by her waist.

He was trying for gentle and all she cared for right now was vengeance.

_I’ll make this up to you Killian._ She silently vowed.

And the three of them proceeded on deck.

“Ingrid. Why are you so cruel to Anna and Killian?” Elsa demanded, the first to speak and break through the tense silence. “Can’t you see that they are important to us?”

She still saw good in her aunt, or maybe she still saw a way for them all to get along.

“They don’t understand us Elsa. They may say they love you, but you cannot love what you cannot understand!” Ingrid exclaimed, her hand reaching towards her cheeks, holding the young ice sorceress close. “I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

She saw Elsa soften, but Emma didn’t. “No you’re not, you’re afraid, afraid that we won’t need you, that we’ll build a life away from you.” She shot. “That Elsa will vanish with Anna and be a family and that I’ll go somewhere with Killian, honestly that’s a bit too far ahead in the future for me, but nevertheless you are terrified you can’t control us.” She hissed. “Even my years of rebelling and you still think you own me!”

Ingrid dropped her hands, coming closer to her. “I love you Emma. You are my sister, my little troubled sister. Can you say that he’ll ever say those words? Do you even think it possible?”

She recoiled. “It doesn’t matter if he will or won’t, what matters is it’s my life!” She hissed.

“He won’t you know, he can’t. He can’t love you.” Ingrid proceeded. “He’ll leave you, he knows he’s going to leave you. Did you know I offered to give him his memories back if he left you?” She challenged. “The memories that were opened when that beast messed with his head? Has he eve told you what he remembered?”

No, she didn’t know that, and no he hadn’t told her what he knew..

“I’m well aware that he didn’t tell you, do you wonder why that is?”

_Because he’s going to take her offer, because he prefers the truth to her, prefers anything to her. She was a monster. She was changing him, darkening his heart, crafting him in ways he didn’t like._

“Ingrid! Stop it!” Elsa snapped, breaking her from her thoughts, getting in between them. “Stop trying to mess with our lives. You have no idea what Emma and Killian have, whatever they have, it’s no one’s business but their own.” Emma smiled softly at her, thankfully.

_I haven’t told him about Neal, or about Henry, or anything. Who am I to judge his secrets?_

“And what about you Elsa? Do you think Anna is just going to stick around once we land? Once she has somewhere to run to? She already knows that you couldn’t love her enough to free her.” Emma raised her hand and blasted at Ingrid, she leapt out of the way, sending her own stream of light her way, hitting her on the shoulder. “She already knows that her sailor was the one who freed her.”

Emma tensed ignoring the witch. It had to be a lie. Killian was her sailor; he couldn’t be Anna’s true love. No one could have two true loves.

Unless one was dead.

“We’re tired of you!” Emma shouted. “Always picking on our insecurities, or pasts, we are not yours. So either shut it or get off.” She growled, ignoring the burning pain in her shoulder. There was one thing about Emma’s magic that she hated. Her forever weakness was light magic. She could only dodge the stuff, her skin could not heal it magically, nor could deflect it. It was one of the reasons she fled from Ingrid, her magic was always stronger.

Ingrid raised her hand, blatant refusal.

“I’m so proud you embraced who you are.” She said. “Now you need to embrace who they are. Let’s go home, remember? We were happy there.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Maybe you were but I’m done with a kingdom of isolation. I want my kingdom.” She bit back, covering her mouth in surprise. “I want my kingdom! I want Arendelle!” She shouted in realization. It was heart-warming to watch as tears slid down Elsa’s cheek, warm wet ones as she laughed maniacally. “ _I want my happy ending!”_ She declared.

They raised their hands, pointing at Ingrid. “Together.”

They each blasted magic, ice and dark, towards Ingrid. She easily blocked it with her own light, throwing them backwards. “Do you ever wonder why your dark magic is so unstable? You are the Dark One, an immortal being, the epitome of everything wrong with the world, but you still cannot defeat your mother, still can’t defeat me?”

Emma hissed at her, wordless anger flowed from her veins.

“Because I am not a monster!” She roared. And then she opened up her hand. “I should have done this a long time ago.” She growled, with both hand a stream of dark magic surrounded Ingrid. She wanted to suffocate the witch, make her pay for all the thoughts in her head that were not her own.

The insecurities, the hate, the confusion, the loss, in this moment when she saw Ingrid her head filled with thoughts of the dark haired sorceress that had once controlled her. At least her mother had used force and not mind games.

“Emma-“ Elsa tried, holding out her hand to stop her. “Stop! You’re going to kill her!”

Emma laughed. “That’s the plan!” She cheered.

Ingrid was choking, she could hear her choking at the light was snuffed out by her mass of darkness. Ingrid tried to blast her way out, but while her magic may be the stronger element, Emma always had more of it.

“What would Killian think?” Elsa tried, clutching her shoulder. “Damn it Emma. He sees good in you! What would he tell you now?”

Her arms slackened a fraction.

“He would say that Ingrid doesn’t need to die.” She said bitterly, she dropped her magic with a curse. Ingrid was on her knees gasping for breath.

“Thank you Elsa, I always knew I could count on-“ But she stops, moving her hands in a circle as a wide object formed, shiny and silver. It was an urn.

“You know what this is Ingrid. It’s just for the ride, I know you mean well, but just because your magic is light…” She swallows painfully. “Doesn’t mean you know what is right. I can’t risk you hurting Anna nor Killian.” She looks to Emma.

“Why don’t you leave us alone for a moment Emma? See to your pirate.”

Emma nods darkly. “I have some things to discuss with him anyway.”

_Killian rescued Anna._ Ingrid wasn’t lying. She said it to hurt Elsa, not realizing it hurt her too. She didn’t realize that if Killian freed Anna, that meant the he was her true love, that he would never love her, that he was claimed by the petite red head.

_No, no, Killian is with you, anyone can see it._ She tries to tell herself. _The passion she feels between them, it was something, one of a kind._

She wasn’t sure about love, but it was something.

Emma was planning on rushing in just as she was, but not stop with the sweeping; she was going to grab him, slam him into the wall, and kiss him, kiss him so hard that she permanently burned herself into him. She was going to ruin him for anyone else as he had already done for her.

 Voices, then Emma heard voices, Killian and Anna were speaking.

“- _I tried to find her, but I froze too quickly. I’m afraid of another accident, what if you aren’t there to unfreeze me?”_

So it was true. Killian unfroze Anna. He saved her. For some reason, Emma liked knowing that Killian was always there to save her, not that she needed it, but it was nice to know she had someone to count on for back up. But it was ridiculous to think that Emma was the only one Killian should save right? He’s a good man.

  _“So I guess you know.”_ Killian sighed. _“About my feelings that she thinks I have.”_

Relief, Emma was relieved. Killian couldn’t love Anna, he barely knew her. This was all a big mistake, it had to be. Killian was not Anna’s true love!

_“I heard what Elsa said, about what the wizard told her. Thank you.”_ She said softly. _“I owe you everything.”_

She suppressed a growl, wondering how close they were, was Anna looking into his eyes, holding his hand, feeling his heart beat rapidly, was he blushing? Smiling at her, seeing what it was like to love someone free of darkness?

_“But I don’t. I can’t. I can’t love, not right now.”_ He admitted. _“It’s not possible.”_

She smirked. Killian didn’t love Anna. He wasn’t giving her yearning looks; he wasn’t feeling anything for her. She had to calm down and hold on to that fact. It was the only thing she had. For whatever reason, Killian was important to her.

_“But you will that’s what’s important.”_ Anna reminded him.

It reminded Emma too. It reminded Emma that the only love she could ever have, was love she had to take. Perhaps she could take his heart, keep him from this fated love. She saw him first after all.

But even that left her with a bad taste. She wanted Killian to want her, she wanted him to be by her side because he chose to be. She couldn’t take him. It left her with only one option.

  _“Yes, I supposed it is._ ”

She’d have to let him go.

 


	19. Putting Me First

 

He followed her out on the deck seeing her trying to bandage the wound on her shoulder. For a moment he wondered why she didn’t just heal it, but in the long run, it didn’t matter, he just wanted to help her.

“Love, let me.” He insisted, making his presence known. She didn’t turn towards him, didn’t even acknowledge his existence. “Love? Have I done something wrong?” He asked gently. “Because if I have, please just tell me.” He raised his hand to lay it on her uninjured one but she moved before he could touch her.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” She says simply, not a hint of emotion in her voice. “I just forgot is all.” He blinked in confusion.

“Forgot what love?” He asks.

“Forgot what I was. I remember now Captain Jones. I won’t forget again.” And she leaves him alone on the deck speechless.

She had never called him Captain Jones, always Sailor, or Captain, or the occasional Jones when they needed to be professional. _Never_ something so cold.

Killian figures that whatever happened with Ingrid has shaken her, that she needs space to deal with it.

The next few days pass in a blur, Emma keeps her distance with him, looking out to the sea rather than at him, chatting with Elsa on occasion. She doesn’t come and visit his room, doesn’t come and get him, there is no more sparring, no more banter. There is nothing.

Anna on the other hand seems quick to find her place, offering to help Killian so he didn’t have to walk back and forth between the hull and the sails. She’s a quick study and eager leaner. She blames the fact that she’s been doing nothing for the last half decade and would like a distraction.

He too wants a distraction from wondering what had happened with Swan, one moment he was swinging her in his arms as she laughed, the Dark One laughing in his arms, and now she was avoiding him like the plague.

But when she made a snap at Anna after the clumsy redhead tripped on a rope, skinning her knee on the deck, that Killian really knew he had to act.

“ _Maybe your true love can kiss you it better.”_ Emma sneered as Killian had gone to tend to the wound. It was obvious that she had meant for it to be low, for her ears only, but Killian heard it anyway and saw the glare she gave Anna and him in that instant. It was so quick he almost he missed it.

“Swan-“ He called to her, trying to get her to stop and listen for a moment. He just needed a moment, but she vanished.

He had had enough.

“Anna, can you man the ship for a moment? I need to take care of something.” He asked. Her face lit up.

“Sure!” As quick as a whip she sped off, excited by the responsibility put in her hands.

 Now he just had to find his Swan.

Luckily he found her sitting way below decks looking through his map collection, one of the many things she liked to do while everyone else slept.

“Swan, please.” He asked her, she stood up, flicked her hand and the maps that were scattered around her were placed back where they belonged.

“I put them back.” She said, ignoring him, trying to move past him. He didn’t let her, daring to step in her way. He could see her eyes flickering with cold rage. “Let me pass or so help me-“

He didn’t move, holding her gaze trying not to falter under its intensity. “Not until you talk to me.” He demanded. “What happened with Ingrid? What changed?” She crossed her arms.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She replied hotly. “Move before I make you.” She growled.

“Then do it!” He challenged back, “Throw me back, take my heart, _run away!”_ He could see her expression darken in a snarl. She was probably debating said actions, and in all honesty, he wouldn’t care one bit.

“Swan, just tell me what changed, do you not have feelings for me? Was this all just a manipulation? Just tell me Swan. That’s all I ask.” She blinked in confusion.

               “That’s what you think this is about?” She demanded angrily.

“What am I supposed to think? Because I’m actually quite perceptive and this.” He said pointing to the distance between them. “This is you avoiding me.”

She sucked in a breath. “I can’t stand in your way Killian. I’ve ruined too many happy endings to do that again, especially to you.” She admitted, avoiding his eyes. He would swear her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

“Ruin my happiness? What are you talking about?” He exclaimed, dropping his voice a pitch, moving towards her.

“You and Anna. You’re her True Love, I can’t stand in the way of that.” She admitted. “Not again.”

And then suddenly it made sense. Suddenly he understood her temper and her avoidance. She thought that his breaking of the spell was because of a connection he had with Anna, she didn’t know that-

“Emma, please look at me.” He asked taking her hands. “Please.”

She did, slowly, but she did.

“You don’t get it Swan. It’s true, my actions broke the spell.” She tried to look away, to pull away, but he didn’t let her, instead pulling her closer. He needed her to know. He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit what it all meant, but he could not let her think that he thought or would ever think of Anna as anything more than a friend, a little sister at best.

“Because I put my life on the line, _for you_ , because I confessed what I did to Elsa _for you_ , because I went in to recue _you_.” He explained. “The act was never for Anna, I didn’t even know I did it, but Elsa planted her on my so the act would warm her heart or something.” He scratched behind the ear feeling his face heat up, now it was his time to avoid her eyes.

“Are you saying that you-“

He shook his head. “No, I- I’m not saying that I don’t but- I can’t. Not yet, I’m not ready to.” He said with his head down cast.

He couldn’t love Emma Swan until he knew he had a future with her.

He heard Emma sigh with relief. “But you don’t love Anna, you’re not destined to either.” She asked with a small voice?

Killian shook his head, feeling a smirk stretch on his face.

“I prefer blondes.” And that was it; she reached up grabbing his jacket and kissed him, pulling him close as his hands slid down around her lower back.

It was like this weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she clung or him for dear life. She felt her hands sliding down towards the buttons of his vest in a frenzy. He pulled back.

“Damn it pirate.” She cursed. “I’ve been trying to get over you for days, and now that I know I don’t have to, you’re really going to stand in the way of our fun?”

His smirk didn’t disappear he just pulled her closer, up against a wall, kissing her neck as she gripped his shoulders. He stopped just long enough to whisper into her ear. In this moment he felt alive again, like Emma Swan had just lit up the darkness of his life.

“Oh darling, I’m a gentleman, I intend to show you a grand time but not in the storage room basement and not until I court you _properly_. You are, after all, still a princess.” She groaned, eyes rolling.

“Now you’re a gentleman?” She asked irritated as he once again stopped her from removing any of their outer wear.

“You forget love, I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

And of course, Elsa picked that exact moment to intrude, her laughter making Killian practically leap away, blushing in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being caught doing ungentlemanly like things. Incompetence sure, but nothing like this.

“Finally getting your investment back from your toy I see Swan?” Elsa snickered. “And he’s gotten you to stop brooding? Thank the lord.” She said with mock relief.

Emma scowled at her. “What do you want popsicle?”

               Elsa grinned sweetly. “Anna’s asking if the land she sees is the port of Misthaven, but I can tell her that you two need a little bit more time if you need.” She said with a snicker. “Please don’t stop on my account, we all know that Emma hear _desperately_ needs to unwind.”

               Killian could hear a low growl from Swan.

               “Come on Killian.” She prodded. “Sooner we get back sooner you get to _courting_ me.” But he saw the suggestive way she was smiling; he knew that the courting process wasn’t what Emma was looking forward to. But good form was good form after all. He laughed following her back on deck.

 

Once back on deck, he could definitely see the port, the place his life had changed forever.

“That’s it Anna. In a matter of minutes we’ll be back.” He said softly. “You two can catch a ride back to Arendelle, they won’t be coming after you now that Swan isn’t traveling with you.”

He could hear Anna’s excited cheer.

“And where will you be going?” Emma asked him. “Are you going to stay here? Back to your job?”

He hesitated. “I want my ship.” He admitted. “It was brother’s and despite what I feel for him at this moment, it’s still my birthright, I can’t let the Captain besmirch her honor a second longer.”

Emma’s eyes darkened in disappointment. “I’m going to take her Swan, and then I’m going to go with you.” Her head rose suddenly. “Because if I had to choose between you and this ship, I’d choose you love.”

Emma laughed. “Well that’s a first.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Having to compete with a ship? Love you know I mean it in jest-“ The sorceress shook her head.

“I’m…I’m not used to someone putting me first.” She admitted sheepishly.

“Get used to it.” He replied. He could see a thought spinning in her head.

“So are you going to tell me who I’m meeting? Who wanted me free?” She said simply. She was trying to hide her curiosity, but couldn’t. It was downright adorable.

Killian chuckled. “I forgot all about that to be honest. I think you should see for yourself.”

Emma groaned. “Come on Killian. Is he a threat? What did he do to convince you anyway?”

A smirk appeared on his face at the memory. At the time he had been terrified, sure that the second they returned, The Captain would put his blade threw his chest, finally tired with his very existence, and this traitorous event. Now, he thought of it, thought of it without that worry, Killian could admit that it was plain amusing.

“He knocked out my captain.” Killian replied carefully, scratching behind his ear. “And blamed me, had I not gone on this quest, The Captain would surely make me walk the plank.”

Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing at his leather. “Let him try.” She growled. It made him smirk at the protectiveness in her tone. “I told you before, stealing from me is a dangerous thing to do.” She said shooting him a look. “Besides I think you can handle him.”

He was stronger, braver, no longer satisfied with being under The Captain’s thumb.

Emma was free, alive, and wanted him by her side.

He could fight his own battles. He was going to stand up for himself and _win_.

               The Arendellian royals took the moment to interrupt, excitement bubbling out of Anna, he found it funny to watch. They’d be the first to depart, Elsa’s magic teleporting them to port before the ship.

“Hey Emma, are you sure you don’t want to come and help me and Anna? We could use your magic, and imagine the havoc we’d cause?!” She said with an excited laugh. Elsa always did have a morbid sense of humor. Anna gave her a look, but the Ice Queen shrugged, this was who she was now, and Anna would eventually have to learn to deal.

Emma shook her head. “I need to stay under the radar, just for a bit before I go after Snow again. I don’t want to get caught.” She reasoned.

“Ah, about that.” Elsa said, reaching into her pocket. “I want you to have this.” She said handing her a ribbon. Emma looked at it skeptically as Elsa tied it to her wrist. “If you ever find yourself in need of help, hold it and think of me and I’ll hear you.” She nodded in thanks, spotting an identical one on the Ice Queen. “We’re sisters after all.”

Killian didn’t know the importance of those words, but saw them on her face, the way they made her smile. He loved her smile.

“And Emma? Your secret is safe with me. I was never really going to tell. I just wanted my Aunt back.” Elsa admitted in a small voice going and hugging the blonde. “But now I have Ann back, I’ll release Ingrid after we’ve taken over Arendelle, hopefully then she’ll understand, understand that Anna is my family too”

They could see the shore now. It wouldn’t be long now. The two parted and exchanged a few remaining words. He didn’t hear them, but he did see the blush on her cheeks just before Elsa and Ingrid vanished in a puff of white smoke.

Teleportation, while effective seemed a bit lonely.

“Got a problem with that sailor?” She quipped. He should start learning not to underestimate her perceptive abilities.

“I…I was always under the impression that traveling shouldn’t be instant, it should be enjoyable, an opportunity to embrace the sea or land you cross. Just appearing where you want to go seems a bit-“

“Boring?” She finished as he nodded in agreement. “I only do it when it’s absolutely necessary. The farther the distance, the larger the beacon of magic is created. Once we meet your friend, we should get out of here as soon as possible. It won’t be long before my mother realizes that Elsa is here, I’d like to keep her in the dark about my escape as long as possible.” She explained.

They were both recalling the tower, and neither wanted to return. Kilian knew that if it happened again, it wouldn’t be so easy to rescue her. Yet he would. He would do all of this over in a heartbeat.

He didn’t respond, keeping occupied with docking the Jewel gently where she belonged. The Captain always seemed to bang her against something or another, bad form if you asked Killian. He also didn’t want to spend any more time here than he could help, worried over what would happen when The Captain finds him, sure he was brave now with the Dark One at his side, but that was different from facing the man who had spent the better part of the last decade tormenting him.

He’d make little snippets at the Captain, earning him a blade in his shoulder or a cigar burn on is back. Killian refused to quit his duties, even though the Captain threw his as well as his family’s name into the mud. That would earn him a broken rib or a concussion that had him stuck in bed for the better part of a week.

When Milah had seen them she had instantly tried to help him, to help to save him. She had tried to convince him to stop standing his ground, to be the deckhand he was, she didn’t want to see him with anymore scars. She didn’t understand why he would stay there and just take it, she hated to see him I  pain.

Emma on the other hand, didn’t need to see to understand, she knew the feeling of being scarred, tormented, becoming too timid to fight anymore. But she knew what her solution would be to the problem, to stand your ground and give as good as you got, to fight. To kill your enemy so they would never hurt you again. Emma was a fighter, one of the things he admired about her, along with the fact that they were kindred spirits.

Killian wasn’t sure which option he preferred.

But now he had to choose, had to face his demons, most of all, the Captain. Partly for his ship, but a larger part was because the man had answers, more answers than Victor, he had been to Neverland, he must recall if Killian was stolen from the realm or placed on the ship with a timer on his soul.

Killian didn’t think the man would tell easily, but perhaps his hatred for him would make him use the knowledge to make him hurt. The man wasn’t smart enough to know that the secret itself was driving him mad.

“Emma, I’ll finish up here, I need to speak to the harbor master and then we’ll go wherever you wish to go alright love?” She crossed her arms, giving him a narrow look.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a right good swordsman now.” It made her roll her eyes at the way he let his ego flare, but she went along with it as promised.

Once she was gone, he went to the Captain’s quarters and procured a certain item he’d been glancing at on occasion.

A bottle of rum, one of the few that Swan had left untouched, before making his way back to the deck, grabbing himself a seat and poured a glass. He placing the bottle on the table and watched the amber liquid carefully. “Brother? Why the secrets? Why pretend to be someone you aren’t? Why did you sell my soul in place of your own?”

No one answered.

 “Well, Well, when they said that _my ship_ was back, I would swear they were mistaken.” Called a familiar voice, stepping onto the deck, his men behind him with his arms crossed. He suppressed a shiver at the dark look in his eyes. “Well Deckhand? What do you have to say for yourself?”

He didn’t respond, he just grabbed the glass and gulped it down in a swig. Not something he ever did. Killian hated the stuff, the lack of control alcohol provided. He hated the way truth spilled off his tongue after so much as a gulp. He ended up settling for goats milk and faked an allergy for the stuff. He recalled watching his brother down a bottle after a storm had hit their vessel, right after leaving Arendelle in fact.

Liam had called the beverage liquid courage; Killian later learned it was liquid stupidity.

He just hoped Liam was right about it all along. He needed all the courage he could get.

“Deckhand’s got some of his spunk back.” The man growled. “What should I do this time, beat you until you forget your bloody name? Cut out that tongue of yours?” His blade resting in its holster.

 _Good. Don’t reveal your new/old skills until necessary._ He said silently to himself, standing facing them.

“You owe me answers Captain. How did you get to Neverland?” The word felt vile in his mouth. He hated that place, hated thinking about it, and hated remembering it. But right now he had to. He had to know the truth.

He saw the flash and felt something hit his shoulder. In a fierce rage the man had grabbed his sword and used the blunt side on him, causing his shoulder to seize in pain as he staggered backwards.

“How dare you, boy! You steal my ship, take it god knows where and demand answers to foolish questions from me? I should cut your throat right now and feed you to the sharks.” He sneered, bringing it down on his chest, making him loose his balance.

“Now swab the deck Deckand, or else. I still haven’t decided on a punishment to fit despicable swine like you.”

Killian didn’t get up, he never did, he usually just went along, did as he was told, hoping that the Captain would be merciful. He looked down at his trembling hands, hating himself.

 “What the hell Jones!” Cried a familiar voice. He looked up, just as the Captain turned to look at her. “Are you seriously going to let him talk to you like that?” Swan his Swan. It was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. She looked beautiful, changed her clothes to that of traditional attire, a red and yellow peasant dress, blonde curls spilling around her.

She was the picture of beauty, looking nothing like the woman he had found that first day, curled up in a defeated heap. Her eyes still held a controlled darkness, but he could see light there too.

Before Kilian could react, the Captain had made his way over to her, not oblivious to the beautiful woman on the Jewel. “Little lass, this is none of your concern, isn’t that right boy?” He sneered, looking at Killian, making him drop his gaze. “Besides, why would a woman like you care for a stupid deckhand.” He flinched, shuddering, his hands clenched tightly.

“And you, Captain…” Swan asked, voice rich with contained anger, but faking syrupy sweetness.

“Smee, but Captain is fine, now, how about you and me meet for a little night cap darling.” He said, touching her neck with his greasy fingers. It was the spot he had been kissing just hours ago.

He didn’t like that. No, Killian didn’t like that one bit. He found himself standing, watching, but standing. A rare bout of protectiveness surged through him. Killian Jones did not like him touching _his_ Swan.

“And you, Smee, think you can handle a woman like me?” She dared. Her eyes locked on Killian’s. The Captain must have noticed it because a cruel smile flashed across his face. He grabbed her wrist tightly, had she been anyone else it would have surely left a bruise. By this point, Killian was shaking. He could feel it again, the stretching deep down in his soul.

“I don’t like sharing my woman’s affections with another man lass.” He sneered. The man thought Killian was shaking in fear of him, fear that he was about to bed his girl.

Smee was wrong, he was wrong because Killian Jones was not afraid, no not at all. Killian Jones was downright furious.

While Killian knew that Swan could take care of herself, it was that instance of cruelty that made him snap. He could handle being treated like dirt, could handle the pain and humiliation, but the thing he could not handle, the thing that seemed to keep making him snap, was the very thought that Swan was in danger, worse that he was not doing his part to protect her heart. It was something he would not stand for.

“Get your bloody hands off of her.” He demanded, pulling his sword, he was no longer shaking, his body was dangerously still. “Or I will. Cut. It. Off.”

The Captain released his grip on her, a triumphant smile in her eyes.

He spun around, shocked at his bluntness, but Killian just kept going, letting the fire burn. “You always dared me to take back _my ship._ ” He sneered. “Well now I am. I challenge you _Smee._ Winner gets the Jolly Roger!” His heart was beating out of his chest, he wasn’t sure if it was fear or rage. At this point, Killian didn’t care.

 He was done. He was beyond done with this.

“Fine. I’ve been tired of you since your brother put you on my ship.” His gaze faltered. The man took the opportunity to slash with his sword, a move he easily blocked, aiming his own at the man’s side. The Captain blocked it clumsily, surprised by the darkness in his expression.

He aimed another, and another. Each blocked, but The Captain was losing ground and fast.

“What the hell do you mean?!” He demanded.

Killian liked the fear in the man too much right now. He needed to know, he needed to know now before Killian did something he’d regret. “Was I placed in your ship? Did he give me to you?” He growled.

“A peace offering. A Deckhand in exchange for a promise.” Smee admitted. “Your brother wanted me to keep you alive until you turned 30.” His heart sank.

  1. _It had to be true then_. He didn’t bother to ask for why. He knew. _It was all true._



He wanted to curl up and cry, sob for the death of the memory. He had already lost his brother, but now he had to deal with the death of his memory, his legacy. He had to face the fact that his brother _was_ a bloody coward.

Smee tried to get past him, taking advantage of the soul crushing hurt, but it didn’t work. Killian refocused and twisted the blade, making him throw the blade; he dropped his own to the man’s chest.

“You know! Don’t you?!” He demanded. “You know about the deal!” He was going to kill him. Oh he wanted to kill him. He saw it that the man knew. He always knew. What did it matter to batter the little sniveling deckhand? He would just die anyway.

Smee was trembling, begging for mercy. How many times had he been that way? Begging for him to stop hitting him? Hurting him? He turned Killian into a coward, afraid of his own shadow, not the man his brother would be proud of. And why did he even care about what his damn brother would think?

His damn brother.

“Do it or not Killian. We don’t have all day.” Emma responded with a flick of her hair. Smee looked at her. He could see the idea forming in the pudgy man’s gaze.

“Please lass, talk some sense into him, don’t let him kill me! He’s gone mad!” He begged. Killian could see how he was trying to play on her sentiments. Most of the bar maidens would not want their lovers to kill, unfortunately Swan was not a part of that crowd.

She leaned over, baring her teeth in a cruel smile. “If I was him I’d cut you in the same places you hurt him, but I’d make them deeper, oh so deeper.” She whispered, bending down tracing one of the scars along his chest on the man, making him shiver in fear. It appeared Smee had witnessed a bit of darkness in his Swan. She straightened up, taking her place at his side, hands draped over his shoulder, playing the part perfectly. Her head rested on his shoulder, he could feel her hair against his throat, it was a wonderful and calming presence. “Well, dear? What’ll it be?” She whispered in his ear, a deadly temptress.

He dropped the blade from it’s spot but held it steady, keeping his body from shaking. “Get out of here, all of you. Get your things and go. This is my ship now, a pirate ship. I refuse to serve a corrupt crown a moment longer.”

They hesitated for a moment and Killian briefly worried if he’d have to fight them all, thankfully Emma was there. “Honey, they aren’t leaving, perhaps we should get the Dark One from the brig?” She teased. “She’s getting hungry for human hearts, surely these maggots would satisfy our catch?” She added with a glance in their direction.

That sure got them going, especially when he chuckled at her words. The sound of their fleeing was beautiful, exhilarating, the fast clatter of their shoes on the wood. He capped his blade, taking a breath he had been holding. “Thank you Swan.” He whispered, turning towards her, pulling her closer to his chest. He just needed to hold her for a moment, to keep from losing his bloody mind.

She nodded. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a reminder.”

And he had it, had it in spades. “Besides, I found your little employer.” She said with a snicker. “Come on out kid.” She called.

A little dark haired boy pranced onto the ship, a devious smile on his face. He was definitely the boy he remembered. The little devil had smooth talked his way on board and then hit the Captain while his back was turned. He convinced Killian that the Captain would never believe nor admit that he had been bested by a mere boy. The boy had tried to trick him at first, hiding the fact that he was on a mission to rescue the Dark One, but Killian was no fool. He had eventually relented and promised that things would right themselves once the Dark One was free, they always repaid their debts.

Apparently the boy wasn’t lying.

“Henry.” She must have seen his momentarily loss of focus into his memories. She turned to the boy, droning disapprovingly, she must have recalled the tale he had told her. “What did you do?” She lectured with a sigh.

Killian chuckled at the innocent smile he gave the blonde. “Oh, give the lad a break love, let his mother do the scolding.” He snickered.

Henry’s grin widened. Emma blushed avoiding his gaze. He blinked; realization dawned on him, especially when he saw their identical chins.

“Are you saying-“ She pressed a finger to his lips as she nodded.

“But you have to keep that between us, understand? Not a soul, don’t even say the words aloud.” He nodded.

“Of course.” He vowed. “Your secret is safe with me love.”

She smiled warmly. A beautiful thing to see, trust was always a reason to smile.

“Um Mom? We should get going soon, Operation Lizard remember? Like seriously we just had this conversation like five minutes ago?” The boy groaned. Emma froze, obviously forgetting her boy was there. She turned to him, ruffling his hair as she looped her arm around his.

“Of course. Coming Killian? I’ll fill you in on the way.” She said simply, nodding towards town.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last official chapter, Epilogue next.


	20. Epilogue: A New Quest

 

She found him in a tavern, sitting at a table, getting a nice rich lady to show him how to play dice. She spotted him pulling coins from her purse, talking animatedly.

Emma rolled her eyes, approaching the scene. “Henry. What are you doing here?” She demanded. It suddenly all made sense. The unanswered questions about who had put him up to help her.

He didn’t want to admit to being extorted by a fourteen year old.

However, poor Killian didn’t know that this boy was no average one, he had conned many into giving him what he needed, from gold to food, to the occasional rescue. Henry was a force to be reckoned with. He was his mother’s son after all.

He froze when he heard her, turning towards her, eyes flickering between the woman he was robbing and his mother. She could already see the story he was crafting spinning in his head, he was always good at spinning tales, enough that Emma often joked that he should be a writer. A wide grin appeared on his face before he ran to her. “You’re alive!”

Sneaky kid, but she couldn’t help it, she had gone so long without hugging her boy, she scooped him up into her arms, holding him close, smelling his foresty scent.

He needed a bath.

“What have I told you about robbing people?” She whispered in her ear.

“Don’t get caught.” He replied evenly. “And I haven’t been.”

She rolled her eyes as Henry turned and thanked the woman for taking care of him while his big sister was gone. She thanked him and half walked, half dragged him out of the tavern.

“Henry, what have we told you about leaving the Forest?” She demanded.

He flashed an innocent grin. “But I missed you mommy.” He pleaded making her eyes roll.

“Henry.” She lectured. He shrugged.

“Fine, but Mom, _something happened_!” He admitted darkly, there was only honesty on his face now. It scared her. “Mom’s gone. Grandma too”

Emma froze, it wasn’t possible. “The protection spell we cast is flawless, no one can break it.” She ensured him. “What happened?”

He crossed his arms angrily. “Auntie came back with that guy again, they broke in, led Snow and her men right to the house. They took Mom and Grandma.” She could see the fear that her kid was trying to hide. She bent down, whipping away the unshed tears as he continued. “I tried to fight them, but mom got me out of there with her magic.” He was trembling now. “I was mad at her, I told her she wasn’t my real mom and she _still_ saved me.” Emma reached in, holding him close as her brave little prince was close to breaking down. “Why did she do that?” He whispered.

“It’s ok Henry, that’s what moms do remember? I told you, I left you with her because I trusted that she would love you. She loves you so much, just like I do. I’ll go get her ok? That’s why you sent Killian on the task didn’t you? To get me out?” Henry nodded, she could tell he was hiding something else, but he didn’t look like he wanted to explain further. “Is Killian the sailor I conned?” He asked. “I thought he’d be dead by now.” He muttered.

Emma rolled her eyes, seeing his attempt to block out his own pain with sarcasm, another trait of hers. “Henry, what did I tell you about tricking people into getting into dangerous situations?” She lectured.

“Make sure they can do what is needed. Come on mom, you’re the first one to trade away a stranger’s life for your own.” He reminded her. Emma cursed under her breath. She didn’t mean to pass on her darkness to her kid, perhaps she really did need Killian. His light had already had an… effect on her. She wanted a bit of it for her son. The whole reason for giving him up was to keep this from happening!

“Ok, let me go get Killian and then we’ll go on a little adventure? Ok? You can give it a name and everything. We’ll put things right again.” Henry smiled. Oh how she missed that smile.

“You two are totallllly doing it.” He teased.

“HENRY!”

Yes. Perhaps having an honorable man, a gentleman, accompany her and her son would be a good idea.

Xxx

A mother always knows.

She didn’t need her dog to tell her that the Dark Swan had escaped her imprisonment; she didn’t need her magic mirror to tell her that she had returned to Misthaven.

She was always so predictable.

While her escaping had been a bit of a blunder, she still had some time to torture the information out of her new guest. An act she’d enjoy, after all the time she’d been hunting the mother and daughter pair, she intended to enjoy her victory.

The dagger, she just needed the dagger, then she could welcome her daughter home with open arms, settle her in her old room and everything would be better. The pair would be punished dearly for interfering with her family, for putting thoughts in her head, thoughts of hope and love.

Love was _weakness_ , and Hope was _deadly._  

               “My Queen?” Said a voice. She looked down at her Huntsman standing obediently at her door.

“What is it?” She snapped, not bothering to get the silver box that rested at her feet. He knew by now that he couldn’t disobey her.

“She’s traveling in a group.” He told her. “One of my men saw her.”

She tensed whirling around to her mirror, bringing up the image.

Emma was easy to pick out, always masquerading as normal until the darkness in her couldn’t take it any longer. Besides her was a boy, she recognized him as the child fleeing her guards, fooling them with his traps. She had thought of him as nothing more than a flea. There was a third member to the group, dressed in leather.

Snow White smiled. It appeared her daughter had found a new toy to play with.

A good mother knew exactly what to do when the child was bad. She’d take away all her little toys, break them if she had to, in order to prove her point. Emma tried to run and hide, but it was no use.

She would always find her.

This family really really doesn’t like to give up.

** Coming Soon:  **

**A Purple Fairy:** Once upon a time, there was Henry Mills, the Truest Believer, appearing before Emma Swan, the Savior hoping to reunite their family. This is not that time, this is not that place. This is the time of the Dark Swan hoping to reunite the family of her favorite little thief with the help of her Deckhand. But what can a Deckhand do against Sorcerers, Evil Queens and a gang of…cheery robbers?

** Teaser: **

“Killian!” Swan screamed again, a second too late as he felt something sharp enter his back, felt fire scorch through his chest as he gasped, he looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, blood seeping around his clothes. It took him a moment to realize what happened.

_He stabbed me._

“Turn him around, I want her to see his face.” The Queen laughed, but her voice sounded so far away.

_He killed me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a sequel.


End file.
